


Any heart could burst its shell, bring your hands to know me well

by calvairelier (hraundrac)



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Aftercare, Aged-Up Character(s), Bathing/Washing, Cat and Mouse, Criminal misuse of furniture, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, They have a fun and reckless little chase, Trans Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Vaginal Atrophy, Vaginal Sex, tail pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hraundrac/pseuds/calvairelier
Summary: Snufkin might notstayin a house, but he'll have his fun in it.
Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snusmumriken | Snufkin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Any heart could burst its shell, bring your hands to know me well

**Author's Note:**

> Creating has been so rough lately. Wrote this instead of working on any of the things I should have been working on. At least I've gotten it out of the way now.
> 
> Title is from The Lamb You Lost by Sam Beam & Jesca Hoop

It was a slow morning, as most mornings tended to be for Snufkin. Perhaps he had lost his touch, gotten too accustomed to the cozy Moomin way of life, but these days he saw little reason in getting ready in a haste, especially after returning from a quick getaway.

He blamed having nightclothes to laze about in. No longer was he always sleeping in the same old smock, rolling out of his tent with the rising sun, already prepared to face the day. It had been simpler then, but Snufkin found he was no longer the same creature he'd been as a child, and that, at times, a little extra care could make one feel quite nice.

It had come in his possession suddenly, years back. He had borrowed the nightgown when he'd once stayed at the old Moominhouse. He could hardly remember why he had needed it at all. Perhaps there had been a storm; perhaps something else. But regardless, Snufkin had stepped through the door and been forced into a change of clothes.

It was a lovely thing, truly. One Moominmamma had made herself—simple, sleeveless, out of an airy sky blue fabric with a sheen and wide lace along the neckline and straps. It had a deep pocket at the hip, and Snufkin liked that very much.

He didn't know who had worn it before him—if it had been worn at all—for it was just his size and Snufkin knew not many people both as short and full as him who might have owned such a dainty thing. For his own sake he had tentatively come to conclude that it must have belonged to a passing visitor now long gone, as Moominmamma had assured him that it had been in their house for a time and Snufkin did not believe her to be lying on that front, nor did he have the heart to press for details or accuse her of plotting. Even if that plot was to slip a gift under his nose. And though it had seemed suspiciously well cared for, he'd been unable to complain when he had found how soft and well stretched out the seams and straps were. It had fit him without any discomfort, barely noticeable on his skin, so Snufkin had worn it with secret delight.

He had meant to return it—or so he'd told himself those first few months. But he had kept finding excuses. One night it was too warm for his usual clothes, another night it was that he simply couldn't bear to think of returning it unwashed and had not yet found the time to do so. And then it just seemed impolite to return it so late. Eventually, however, Snufkin had to admit to himself that perhaps there had never been a fight to begin with; that perhaps he simply liked it, and found it suited him well.

Moomin had certainly agreed (though that very much had nothing to do with why Snufkin had kept it, thank you). The troll had thrown him many a compliment about it that first time he'd tried it on, with Moominmamma beaming beside him in agreement. And as his friend had led him up the stairs to retreat for the evening he had stroked the thin fabric over his back, and Snufkin had felt his touch as though it had been on his bare skin. Moomin had sneaked glances the entire night, when he thought he wasn't looking, and Snufkin had basked in the attention, rocking in place to feel the dress sway.

He'd worn it ever since, on late spring and summer nights when he was in the valley and the temperature was right for it. Not every night, of course, for at times it was still too much of a bother, but often enough to put his vagabond image in jeopardy. When winter came, he used to fold it on the windowsill in the Moomins' woodshed, where he and Moomintroll would sometimes hide their letters, and leave it there for the season. Nowadays, he simply left it with the troll himself, in the still-warm space in his bed that Snufkin would carefully extract himself from after they had their tender goodbyes (Moomin pretended to be asleep every time, and Snufkin adored him terribly for it).

Suffice to say, if it hadn't been worn before, it was certainly worn now. The colour had faded, sun-bleached or washed out, and some patches had become rough, pilled, and matte. There were stray threads from seams that had come undone, been sown back, and come undone again. Bits of bark caught in the fabric when he would sit at his fire, and at times they stuck so well they would not come out in the wash, and Snufkin would have had to pick the splinters out one by one, an endeavour he felt rather pointless when he would simply sit again.

And sitting would he be doing now, had he anything to cook for breakfast. He had his coffee, but as much as Snufkin enjoyed a strong brew, it did little for an empty stomach, and he had emptied enough cups already. His predicament was the result of poor foresight on his part, really. He had used much of his rations on his wanderings over the past week, keeping well away from any authority figures or people who would sell out a stranger for such a wretched thing as warrant money. He had only just returned to the valley the night before, and by then he had been so eager in doing so that he hadn't stopped to resupply, nor kept an eye on any food he might have picked on his way.

He was spoiled rotten, Snufkin thought with embarrassment as he stood over his camp—spoiled enough to think that reaching Moominvalley meant all his needs would instantly be met; spoiled enough to expect a guaranteed meal whenever he was there; spoiled enough to forget the very basics of being a traveler.

But he'd arrived just a little too late into the night, some time after Moomintroll's lamp had gone out, no warm glow to greet him like a beacon from the highest window of the tall house. Snufkin had set up his tent in a haste, changed into his gown for a small taste of comfort, and gone to bed without announcing himself.

He hadn't slept very long—rarely did, as Snufkin prefered to wake with the sun and nap throughout the day. Perhaps if he had slept in he wouldn't be bearing through such discomfort, assuming Moomin would have been awake by then. The troll, like the rest of his family, much enjoyed sleeping late and waking late. And though at times Snufkin was happy with his private, undisturbed mornings, other times the delay could leave him impatient, pacing uselessly until Moomin rose.

Those times, he would usually cave to the temptation of hurrying it along with a whistle or a song. And if that didn't do the trick, he would dig up a handful of pebbles, and aim them for Moomintroll's window. Might Moomin have had a ladder on his new house, Snufkin would have climbed it like when they were younger. But the troll had foregone it in the construction, claiming he was too heavy for it now and calling it childish, a sentiment which Snufkin, who loved sneaking in through windows, greatly disagreed with. Ladders were fun. And certainly Moomintroll hadn't lost his taste for fun.

No, Snufkin had a strong suspicion the reasoning for it might have been something else entirely. After all, if a ladder could be used to climb up, it could naturally also be used to climb down. And if their years of coital intimacy had proven anything, it was that Snufkin was very inclined to slipping away after the fact. Especially if they were in a bed, which Moomintroll, great romantic that he was, always wished to find him in when he awoke.

Snufkin had to admit it could be nice, on the occasions when he allowed it. He would rouse peacefully, warm and lax, and gently wake Moomin in turn, who would greet him with kisses and tender caresses and soft, mumbled words. He would run his fingers through Snufkin's hair and down the skin he'd mapped so many times before. And Snufkin would bury into his fur and doze off again, or, if inclined, he would climb over the troll and take him once more, lazy and sweet. They would have breakfast together afterwards, making pancakes in the kitchen with their sides pressed together and batter on their noses for the other to clean.

But such idyllic affection took a lot out of Snufkin, who had little he could bear upon his crumpled and volatile heart. More often than not he would escape as soon as he could. Snufkin would act the moment Moomin turned his back and slink away with tousled hair and clothes askew. If he didn't get that chance, then he would wait until the troll fell asleep, carefully freeing himself from his arms like from a trap, and taking a moment to stare upon that face he loved so dearly before leaving quietly as he could—before, through the window; now, through Moomin's creaking door, down equally loud steps, holding his breath and hoping he wouldn't have to face Moomintroll's painful disappointment.

And disappointed he always was, though he would always let him go, still. What a troll… Perhaps he deserved to be woken rudely, for making Snufkin's life that much more complicated.

As he looked up at his window, however, Snufkin's heart pinched with the thought of him, and he reconsidered the idea. He was too lazy for throwing rocks, he told himself, even as his knees shook with restlessness. Yes, that was it. And too lazy for foraging as well.

If Moomin insisted he use the doors, then it was only fair that Snufkin allow himself to his larder as he saw fit. Perhaps he would even find a fresh batch of eggs. The prospect had him very encouraged.

And so, forgoing hat and shoes, Snufkin made his way up to the house, cold toes sinking into the long, dewy grass. It wasn't the old Moominhouse, which still stood on its farthest hill in the distance, but Moomintroll's home was close in spirit—still the traditional stove shape. Snufkin had taken a while to settle into the change, but now at times it was almost easy to forget that he used to take a different path every year.

He rounded to the back where the kitchen was, and as he stepped onto the veranda, Snufkin was struck with the feeling of something being amiss. How curious a sight, he thought. The door had been left ajar as if in invitation, and as he drew nearer a pleasant scent tickled at his nose. Mint.

Had Moomin been awake after all? Had he seen him return? He must have, surely Snufkin had no other explanation for why the troll would be up so early. He pushed the door open carefully, wary of the rusty hinges, and slunk in like a thief, unsure what he would find.

What he found, in the end, was not much. There was no troll in sight, and Snufkin's chest sank with mild disappointment. It didn't last long, however, as the smell of the room washed over him in full. He sniffed the air happily, taking in lungfuls of fresh, chilled sweetness.

The source? A pot of tea out on the counter, yellow and adorned in an array of colourful, simplistic flowers. It was sitting in a puddle, alongside a teacup and a stalk of green leaves, and Snufkin recognised it instantly for its bunches of tiny purple flowers. Corn mint. A good choice.

He approached the teacup, white and painted with little forget-me-nots, on its mismatched saucer, gilded and lace-patterned. Upon closer inspection, Snufkin noticed there was tea spilled in the saucer. The teacup itself was empty. Someone had missed the mark entirely. What a mess.

He watched the puddle inch closer to the edge of the counter, running in the gaps between the tiles, and Snufkin wondered blithely if it was going to spill on the floor. He had no doubt now that Moomin was awake, but Snufkin wasn't here to clean up his little accidents. He turned away, intent on heading for the larder, when a streak of sunlight directed his attention, lighting up the biscuit jar. Snufkin made a beeline for it.

Lifting the porcelain lid, he found it full, of course. He stuck his paw in and took hold of a handful, pulling them out. They were plain, sugary and glazed, shaped in an S. Snufkin took one more and carefully put the lid back on. And with his supply in one arm, he hoisted himself up onto a free counter space, opting for the wooden surface instead of the cold inlaid tiles nearby.

Moomin finally made his appearance as Snufkin had started devouring his treats, paying little mind to the crumbs that he left all over himself and the kitchen. The troll stopped in the doorway, eyes fixing on him instantly. There was a tea towel in his paws, clean and neatly folded.

"Snufkin! Hello," he greeted, sounding hardly surprised to see him. He must have been right then, Snufkin gathered. Moomin had seen his tent.

"Hullo," he drawled back, swinging his legs. He placed the last of his biscuit in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then started on another. Moomin didn't reproach him for stealing food, the fussy troll. Instead, he set his paw against the edge of the counter, and started running it along as he drew closer, until it was right by Snufkin's knee and the large troll was standing in front of him. Snufkin felt tugged closer by an invisible force, leaning into his proximity. Moomin smelled like citronella and jasmine detergent.

"What a pretty perch you've found. Are you dirtying my counter?" Moomin scolded jokingly, and his words only made Snufkin bolder.

"You don't need my help for that," he pointed out through a mouthful, and Moomin grimaced in remembrance and turned away, directing his attention to his mess. Snufkin kept eating as Moomin went about sopping up the spilled liquid with the towel. He lifted the cup he had presumably attempted to fill, and wiped it dry, then did the same with the saucer, and placed them aside to wipe the rest of the counter. Snufkin watched him lazily until he was done and Moomin had slapped the wet towel down.

"Tea?" Moomin offered as he picked up the pot, already filling the cup again. Properly, that time. The pale golden liquid steamed as it poured quietly. A steady paw. He must have been half asleep, before.

"No, thank you," Snufkin declined. He had coffee earlier, after all.

Moomin simply took his tea and returned to his side, disappearing the cup beneath his snout. He blew on it a few times, then attempted a sip and seemingly regretted it, jumping back from the heat. He tried once more with the same result, and Snufkin watched on with amusement. Moomin's fingers were wide and stubby, yet they held the thin handle carefully as he finally abandoned the futile attempts and set it down. The wafting scent tickled Snufkin's nose.

"Well, that needs cooling," Moomin spoke. He looked to Snufkin, then over his shoulder, and back, seeming to consider his next step. "Give me a moment, while I'm at it."

And then he turned away again, picking up his discarded towel, and Snufkin sat there patiently as the troll disappeared from the room once more, off to feed it to that dreadful machine of his, no doubt.

Snufkin struggled to understand its use. He had been adamant against it since the day Moomin had gotten it. It made so dreadful a noise, and it spun and spun and spun enough to make one dizzy. A scrub on the rocks in the river or sea with some soap wasn't so difficult, he thought, and far more pleasant, but Moomin had never much enjoyed doing the washing in the first place.

Snufkin wasn't all too happy to have been left alone in favour of such chores but well… If Moomin was gone… Snufkin set his remaining biscuits down and reached for the cup, fingers wrapping around the handle. If no one was about to stop him then there was no harm in stealing a sip.

He was careful not to slosh the liquid as he lifted it, pinky out against the foot to keep the cup steady. He brought it to his nose, taking a good whiff. It was warm upon his face, and Snufkin closed his eyes, soothed. He pressed the rim to his lip, blowing on it for a moment as Moomin had, then tilted it. The tea was indeed still hot, but not unbearably so for a Snufkin. It burned down his throat for a mere moment before the warmth spread through his entire body. Snufkin exhaled long into the drink, feeling very at peace.

He heard the water start up in the next room, and Moomin return quickly after. Even without seeing him, Snufkin could tell when he had stumbled into the kitchen. His large presence was familiar and unmistakable, and the poor troll has never learned how to sneak. Snufkin angled his face in his direction and blinked his eyes open, very happy to see him. It made the moment all the more warm and lovely to have Moomin there.

"That's my tea," Moomin pointed out, a feigned attempt at a scolding. The amusement was clear in his voice as he said it, and Snufkin returned it with a wider smile of his own, pushing at his heated cheeks.

"Yes, it is," he confirmed unhelpfully.

"You know you could have asked for a cup, if you've changed your mind," Moomin reminded him as he drew near.

Snufkin chuckled. How dear, how polite. "Much prefer to drink yours, as you should know." That was half of the appeal, after all.

Moomin held his eye, seeming to ponder the moment, then closed the distance, placing his fingers between Snufkin's on the cup's handle, urging him to give it over. Snufkin only fought him for a moment before his fingers slipped out under Moomin's hold, allowing him to take it back. Moomin tilted his snout up, and downed the rest of the drink.

"There. Now there's nothing left for you to steal," the silly troll declared proudly as he set the cup back down, and Snufkin's chest burst with affection. He slipped his arms around Moomintroll's neck before he could escape, and Moomin's eye was drawn to his instantly, their bodies tilting closer.

"How cruel of you," Snufkin joked. "But I steal much more than tea." He urged Moomin forward, the troll going cross-eyed as he kept looking at him. Snufkin breathed against his snout, voice low as he added, "In fact, I may steal whatever I like."

With that, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to Moomin's fur and lingering for a few heartbeats, before breaking off. His gaze flicked up to the troll's twitching ears, and Snufkin met his wide, starry gaze again with pride that he had flustered him so.

"There," Snufkin echoed the troll's earlier words. "I've stolen a kiss."

A snort sputtered out of Moomin, who squeezed his eyes shut to his antics. "You are impossible," he chided, though his tone leaked of fondness. "How am I to stop such a cunning thief?"

"You aren't."

Moomin lifted his head, looking at him once more, a molten depth pouring into his gaze and pushing the ring of blue out to the edges like gilding. Snufkin's breath caught, leaving him instantly entranced. "No, I'm not," Moomin agreed in a longing breath, and leaned in for another kiss.

Snufkin obliged all too eagerly, meeting him nose to nose. He exhaled happily into the soft, warm fluff, as Moomin nuzzled him, slow and sweet. Snufkin tilted his chin up, pressed his lips back instead, and Moomin, encouraged, pushed further into him, forcing his body back. Snufkin's paws left the other's neck, coming down to steady himself against the counter just as Moomin's own fell onto his thighs and gave the soft flesh there a squeeze.

The troll's snout slid up past his nose and forehead, smushing his face clumsily, and Snufkin chuckled, ducking underneath to reach his mouth as he was meant to. Their lips met softly, caressing like the touch against a petal, something light and suggestive that Snufkin wasn't willing to nourish just yet. He formed quiet murmurs against him, moving away from Moomin's insistence, keeping it lazy, with the barest of pressure. A tease.

Moomin indulged him for a minute, but no longer. He seemed to have other ideas, and soon enough he was pushing against Snufkin's mouth with fervor, devouring him like he were famished. Snufkin couldn't help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth. He shifted his arms further back, giving himself more space to retreat. Moomin only chased him, tilting further over his body, his paws hiking up Snufkin's thighs to adjust his balance, thumbs settling into the dips where his legs met his pelvis.

Snufkin let him have him a moment more, delighted by Moomin's enthusiasm as he reciprocated, before he raised a paw, pushed it to the base of Moomin's neck to hold him back. Moomin stilled instantly, pulled back enough to bring his snout down again and level his confused eyes with Snufkin's own. Snufkin smiled.

"My, my… one would think you haven't kissed me in days," he teased.

"I haven't," Moomin pointed out. "You've been gone all week." His thumbs rubbed through Snufkin's gown as if to assure himself he was real. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, here and there," Snufkin dismissed, and pecked his snout in hopes of getting him to drop the subject. He didn't wish to speak of where he'd gone. Such things did not matter, and needed not always be known, especially when it came to matters of misdemeanor. Where Snufkin went and what he did were things he shared at his own discretion—not for any need of secrecy, but simply because he enjoyed the privacy of his day, and recalling it to another would make it no longer his own.

And there was also the matter of distraction. In that moment, Snufkin wished only to have Moomin.

Luckily, it seemed that Moomin felt the same. Too invested in where they were at, he accepted Snufkin's avoidant answer in favour of tilting his head again and going in for another kiss. That time, Snufkin responded with vigor, no longer playing his game. He had to indulge, for he wanted him—oh how he wanted him.

They moved against each other with desperation, brought together as if trapped in a raging storm, swallowing sounds and sighs and trying to get ever closer. Snufkin's paws ran over as much of Moomin as he could reach, unable to settle. He had been longing to touch him again; been longing to taste of him. And so he did.

Eventually, however, they were forced to part, Moomin pulling away first to give his neck a much needed break and let the blood flow back into his nose. Snufkin attempted to chase, until his own shaky lungs caught up with him and he stilled, taking in what little air he could find between them. Moomin's inhales seemed to draw in everything, and his exhales blew directly into his face like a warm wind. Snufkin blinked through it, and met the troll's eyes, which crinkled warmly, so full of genuine adoration, and Snufkin couldn't help the silly lopsided smile that grew on his face. Goodness was he smitten.

Moomin's thumbs started rubbing again, steadily hiking the fabric of his gown. It did not go unnoticed to Snufkin, who released an attempt at a chuckle, and tried to speak as best he could. "What are you doing down there?"

Moomin did a poor imitation of a confused hum in response, not tricking Snufkin in the slightest—especially as the troll's eyes lowered to his task with fascination. Snufkin fell into earnest, breathy laughter, bubbling out of his chest with giddiness. "How bold you are! Do you get so dreadfully lonely without me here?"

"Always," Moomin answered without missing a beat, then nuzzled against his nose. His paws lifted from the fabric and settled atop the already exposed skin of his thighs, running upwards only as far as the bunched up hem of his gown, teasing to slip under. Snufkin shivered, his skin prickling and sensation pooling in his belly.

"Are you cold?" Moomin asked. "I could bring you some trousers if… you…" His offer trailed off as he caught Snufkin's look, his best attempt at enticing. It had worked before, and it worked now. "Or… you could let me warm you up?"

Snufkin smiled like the cat that got the cream.

Unfortunately for Moomintroll, however, Snufkin liked to play with his food. Call it a poor habit, but if he had it in his paws, then he wanted to get as much fun out of it as he could. And if the last few minutes had proven anything, it was that he was feeling rather playful, so as eager as Snufkin was, he wasn't about to give in so quickly.

"I don't know…" he started, smile still on his face though Moomin quickly pulled his paws back. What a dear. What a fine troll. Snufkin slid his own paw around the other's soft scruff, holding him there, and gave him a look he hoped would convey his intention well enough. "I don't think you've done much for it. You've just been here, cozy in your home, waiting for me. Don't you think that too easy?"

Moomin blinked at him, brows furrowing. "Too easy?" he repeated, not understanding. Of course he didn't, easy was the very definition of troll life. Pity for him then, that he had chosen such a difficult creature to fancy.

"If you want me…" Snufkin drawled, sliding his paw enticingly down his neck and over his upper arm, his other paw mirroring, "you'll have to catch me."

And then he brought his feet up on the counter and used his leverage on Moomin's arms to push himself up. He rose above the other, who craned his neck to follow, cheeks fluffing from the flush underneath, ears and tail twitching agitatedly. He didn't scold about his dirty feet, the enamoured troll, but Snufkin did expect Moomin to reach for him. And that he did.

Quick as could be, Snufkin hopped out of reach into the next clear counter space, laughing as Moomin's paw froze in the air, stunned. Snufkin rose onto his toes and did a happy little pirouette, just to show off, his gown billowing around him. He lowered back onto his heel to find Moomin watching him, just as he had hoped.

He started walking further backwards along the counter, holding Moomin's gaze all the while until finally, Moomin blinked the confusion out of his eyes and caught on. He stepped forward, and Snufkin stepped back, encouraging him to follow after.

Snufkin narrowly avoided tripping the breadbox and jars that were laid about as he took the turn along the other wall, inching ever closer to the entryway, when his foot knocked against the large fruit basket. Moomin, seeing him about to slip away and perhaps thinking he had a moment's delay, made a hasty advance.

Snufkin reacted. Dropping to a knee, he took hold of the edge of the basket, and flung it off the counter in one sudden motion. An avalanche of fruit came tumbling down, and Moomin skidded to a halt, arms out to steady himself, nearly toppling as he struggled to place his feet between the fruit that rolled towards him.

When he finally regained his balance, his head whipped up, and he shot Snufkin a look, incredulous at first, then disapproving. "That was a dirty trick!"

"Are we not playing dirty?" Snufkin asked with feigned innocence.

"I'll play you dirty," Moomin warned, taking a wary step forward as though the floor were covered in traps, and Snufkin burst with laughter. There was little Moomintroll could do. He had been sufficiently slowed, and with that Snufkin took his chance, jumping off his perch and making a quick escape out into the drawing room.

The moment his foot hit the carpet he spun to abruptly change direction and stumbled to the dining table. He placed his paw against the back of a chair and stopped, waiting. The troll came rushing right after, kicking an apple along in his haste, and nearly rolling off of it when his foot landed atop the fruit. Luckily for him, he managed to grab the doorway, saving himself from the nasty and likely embarrassing fall. He spotted Snufkin instantly.

"Careful," Snufkin warned, only to goad him further. Moomin snorted, let go of his support, and charged.

Snufkin was quicker, already expecting it. He tilted the chair, knocking it to the ground between them with a loud thud, effectively impeding Moomin's path. The troll startled, and Snufkin stepped back, pulling down another as he went, and then the last for good measure.

Moomin stared at the obstacles, dumbfounded for a moment, before he shook it off. Snufkin was surprised he wasn't more upset about his chairs, or his floor. Suppose some things mattered little after all, even to a troll. Snufkin couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. As it was, Moomin simply hastened the long way around, and Snufkin darted away before he could reach him. 

Moomin gave chase well, but Snufkin had always been the agile one between the two of them, and the troll stood little chance of catching him. Rare were the moments he'd managed to, even when they'd been kids. It had always involved more trickery than speed. But Snufkin had been terribly impressed when it happened. He hoped Moomin would catch him now. He had to, after all. But Snufkin didn't intend on making it easy for him.

They ran circles around the drawing room, weaving between furniture. Elation built up in them until they were both roaring with laughter. Wild grasps and narrow misses only spurred them on. Moomin tripped over his own feet as he pursued him, and Snufkin, hair and skirt sweeping after him, took as many sharp turns as he could to throw him off, jumping on and off of furniture to avoid him. Moomin was trying his very best to keep up, but Snufkin liked himself unpredictable.

He made a sudden loop around the troll, who turned to follow. Snufkin did not let him stop. He went around and around, forcing Moomin to keep revolving, again and again. The troll was reeled after him until he was stumbling and had to stop. Snufkin, feeling a bit devilish, took the opportunity, and gave a quick yank on Moomin's tail, making him jump with a yelp. Moomintroll tails were not so sensitive, being often in use, but to have one's tail pulled was still quite a surprise. And Snufkin delighted in how it caught him off guard.

Moomin whirled back on him and Snufkin gasped a breath as he dashed away once more, avoiding his lunge. Moomin's arms wrapped around empty air, and he realised his mistake quickly. His offended tail swished behind him as he bounded after him.

Snufkin ran to the furthest corner of the room, and Moomin stopped in front of him with his arms apart, blocking his path. Snufkin moved to a side. Moomin mirrored him. He moved to the other, and Moomin did it again, taking a step with it. Snufkin knew then what he had to do.

He steeled himself, and sprinted forwards. He caught the surprised expression on the troll's face for a split second before he bent his knee, shifting his weight onto the polished floor. And in a moment, he had slid under his arm and to freedom before the other the chance to react.

Snufkin bolted for the staircase, springing up the steps quickly. Moomin came thundering after him, and Snufkin took advantage of the continuous, curved railing to swing himself around and onto the next flight of stairs as soon as his foot hit the landing. It gave him a significant lead, Moomin having barely reached the first floor when Snufkin had already gotten to the second.

He went up another, reaching the door to Moomin's bedroom, and stopped abruptly, as if pulled back. He could hear the troll in question calling after him, voice echoing up the stairs. The walls squeezed tight around Snufkin. The weight of that room hit him as much too sweet in that moment, and he couldn't bear it. He stepped back, resolved that it would take too much time for Moomin to reach him anyhow, and changed course.

He climbed onto the handrail, sitting himself on it, legs crossed and feet pulled close, wary of potential obstacles on the way and trying to make sure he was well balanced. Perhaps Little My had the right idea. Snufkin hadn't done such a thing since he was a child, and even then he'd hesitated, too embarrassed and polite. What a waste not to have tried this more. At least, he thought, he could make up for it now.

Snufkin started to scoot himself along. It took a few pushes to gather enough speed for him to stop catching, but once his gown was smoothed properly beneath him, Snufkin found himself sliding down with almost terrifying ease.

He saw Moomin coming as he took the first turn. Moomin stopped his grueling climb as Snufkin sped towards him, and Snufkin knew what to expect. Moomin wasn't quick enough, his paw merely grazing against him as he passed by in a blur, and Snufkin's chest burst with laughter. He was absolutely thrilled. His legs rose high into the air as he turned once more and the wall disappeared as he lost sight of the troll, the space opening up.

He had gotten so lost in the excitement that he did not see the end coming. He slipped right off, momentarily stunned as he was flung into the air, and then landed in a safely rolling heep on the drawing room carpet.

"Snufkin!" Moomin cried in distress, having likely heard the clumsy fall, or perhaps predicted such an outcome. His steps were loud as he hurried back down, but Snufkin barely noticed.

All he could do was laugh, rolling himself up into a sit. He combed his tousled hair out of his face, his heart pounding in his chest. Moomin finally reached the ground floor, and they both paused, staring at each other. Snufkin gulped a much-needed, desperate breath, and great devotion burst through him.

Moomin stumbled to him despite his shortness of breath, paws extended with concern. "By my tail! Are you hurt?"

Snufkin grinned wildly at him. What a remarkable troll. Moomin stopped just short of touching him upon seeing his no doubt openly smitten expression. Snufkin did not try to conceal it.

"Have you hit your head?" the troll asked worriedly, ears and tail twitching with agitation.

Snufkin laughed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Moomin's paws hovered close, there to catch him if he fell. "No, no! I haven't a scratch," Snufkin assured him, barely containing his exhilaration. The excitement still coursed through his veins. He wouldn't have been opposed to doing it again. "That was great fun!"

Moomin released a heavy breath, and pulled one of his paws against his own chest. "You scared me! That was reckless!" He made to touch him, but Snufkin caught the paw before he could, lacing their fingers.

"You worry too much," he reproached, and then stepped forward, rising onto his toes to press a kiss to the tip of Moomin's snout, a brief little thing.

It was all over before Moomin could react. Snufkin had released his paw and stepped away, knowing proudly that he hadn't allowed himself to be caught. Their game wasn't over yet, after all. Not if Snufkin had a say in it.

"Save that care for after you've caught me," he advised, voice low and reminding him of their reward. Moomin blinked, his ears perking up, and Snufkin, having successfully appealed to the other's sensitive nature, felt quite accomplished.

He smiled as enticingly as he knew how to, baiting him for a moment, then, sudden as could be, he turned tail and scampered off. Moomin only hesitated for a beat before he gave chase once more, calling his name. Snufkin, utterly intoxicated, howled with laughter. They made further laps around the room, erratic, giggly and lightheaded, and Moomin seemed to quickly forget the earlier mishap in favour of eagerly reaching for him.

Snufkin collided with a wall, and rolled away just in time before Moomin did the same. The picture frames shook, but nothing fell that would have delayed Moomintroll, and Snufkin, thinking only of escaping him, burst in through the nearest door without much forethought.

He was met with the small, enclosed laundry room, with its big machine, white and square and tubed up to the sink. It rumbled in pulses like a heartbeat. Snufkin turned abruptly only to find Moomin in the doorway. An understanding passed through their gaze. Snufkin had trapped himself again.

Or so Moomin might have thought. Snufkin backed into the machine, and set his paws against the box, an inkling of dread settling in him as it vibrated beneath his touch. He swallowed that down, ran his paws up to the top edge, and pushed. He lifted himself up to sit upon it, then brought his feet up and stood. The beast tried its best to shake him off its back, but Snufkin held his balance, stance wide. Moomin seemed to frighten, hurrying over with his arms wide apart to catch him.

Snufkin did not want to be there any longer than he was. He took advantage of his height, and dove for the troll. His arms looped around his neck as he swung off his perch, and Moomin spun with the momentum, reversing their positions. Snufkin let go once he was safely on the other side, landing on his feet, and bolted out the now unobstructed door, leaving behind a once again outwitted Moomintroll to process what had happened.

"Snufkin! Wait!" He called as he finally ran after, laughter in his voice, seemingly taking his trickery well. His feet skidded on the floor, and he nearly tripped on the edge of the carpet. "Snufkin! Don't you want me?"

"A good reward needs a good chase!" Snufkin threw back, swishing his skirt at his side and dodging another grab. "Had enough, have you?" He ribbed him.

"Me? No!" Moomin answered, persistent in seeing this through. "Have you?"

Have I! Snufkin laughed out his lungs, unable to even answer as he twirled with glee. His knees nearly gave out beneath him but Snufkin quickly regained his balance and made haste.

He moved far slower now than he had at the beginning—but then so did Moomintroll. Instead, Snufkin felt much more daring. He dashed into Moomin's lunges, confident that he could not be caught, and would graze him as he passed, over any area he could reach. Moomin's soft coat beneath his fingers felt like a treat every time, and Snufkin's body would tingle with the brief contact.

It seemed to have an effect on Moomin as well, though Snufkin never left him enough time to react further, moving unpredictably around him, directed by the stumble in his legs. Moomin's ears swiveled atop his head while he tried to keep up, and his tail would swat at Snufkin when he would run up behind him, though it was never enough to stop him from drawing his fingers over his back.

The troll made many attempts, all of them ending up with empty paw or empty arms, just barely missing him. But they had gotten closer. One was so close that Moomin had actually managed to lay his palm on the soft of his arm, and Snufkin thought for a moment that he was done for, but he slipped away before Moomin could get a hold on him. Another instant, Moomin's fingers had grazed down his back to his rump, sliding right off the fabric and closing around nothing. Snufkin's body had lit up at that, reminding him why they were doing this.

Despite the exciting prospect of finally being caught, he kept it up a while longer, laying paw over the troll at every chance he got and spurring him on with bare escapes. His side pinched, his actions became sloppy, and his mind even more muddled, but Moomin did not fare any better, seeming in much the same state.

Eventually, all that energy gave out, legs too tired and lungs shaky. Snufkin backed into the coffee table, expecting Moomin to make one last dive for him, but instead the troll staggered into a stop as well, folding in on himself and panting. Snufkin had truly worn him out, it seemed. The poor dear… The poor, lovely, lovely, dear. Perhaps he'd overdone it.

Snufkin rethought that instantly as his eyes were drawn down his lover's body to where he had begun to poke out of his sheath, flushed and shiny and very noticeable among the white fur. Oh. Snufkin couldn't help but smile.

It was not quite to the midpoint that he loved, where it was thicker and ribbed, but he took great pride in seeing it on its way, knowing he had excited Moomin so. He could hardly wait to ease the rest of it out; have it in its splendid fullness, stiff and weeping; feel it in his paw; inside of him.

Snufkin ached with emptiness at the thought. He raked his eyes back up Moomin's form to find him watching him with that same hunger. Snufkin gave him his slyest look in return, eyes narrowing suggestively.

"Have you tired now?" He teased, despite being winded himself. He took the hem of his gown, fanning out the sweat from his fur. His face had to be terribly red, he suspected.

"Not yet," Moomin lied stubbornly, not fooling anyone.

"You still haven't caught me," Snufkin pointed out.

Moomin's fur fluffed at that. "I will!"

Snufkin could have laughed. He knew who had the upper hand in this, and it was not Moomintroll. "Perhaps I'll go easy on you and consider this my loss," he suggested.

Moomin threw him a skeptical look, eyes flitting over the space around them, trying to figure out Snufkin's plan, no doubt. And he must have known he had a plan, as Snufkin had successfully evaded him at every turn up until now. "I'm not falling for it."

Snufkin failed to contain his smirk. "Shame," he said, feeling very confident that Moomintroll was indeed going to fall for it. He had tricks up his sleeve, after all. Or rather, up his skirt.

He tugged higher at the fabric of his gown, slipping his paw underneath, and lifted the material up to his chest, exposing a triangle of bare skin and orange fur. Moomin's panting stopped instantly, his spine straightening from his crouched position, ears and tail perking up as he took in the sight. Even a few meters away, Snufkin could still hear the breath that was pulled through his nostrils.

Snufkin dropped the fabric, grinning widely at Moomin's caught expression. He had him now.

Encouraged, he turned his back to the troll, facing the table. He laid his paws against the wood, and lowered his chest, bending down over it and pushing his hips up. He then lifted his short, fluffy tail so that his skirt could ride up. Moomin choked, a sound like he'd been squeezed, and Snufkin rejoiced. He brought his feet further apart and shook his tail, causing the fabric of his gown to dance against him. He was damp with sweat and need, and the tickling motion chilled his heated skin.

He would have stood that way longer, were it not a mere ruse. He heard the step, the soft thump and the creak of the wood under Moomin's weight, and Snufkin lept into motion, throwing himself into a roll over the table and landing on the other end.

"Oh come now! I knew it!"

Not minding Moomin's exclamation, Snufkin straightened his clothes back over himself and scrambled up onto the couch with a laugh, giddy from his win. The cushion sunk unsteadily under his feet with the telltale clatter of dishes hidden below, waiting until the next rains for a wash. He could break something, Snufkin thought, and felt all the more thrilled for it.

"Snufkin," Moomin implored. He didn't have to say anything further for Snufkin to understand, but Snufkin wasn't going to give it to him. Moomin already had his short break and a small reward for his effort, but that was hardly a proper win. If he wanted it, he couldn't give up now.

How lucky for Snufkin that Moomintroll was a resolute creature, especially when it came to him, and was thus very easy to spur back into action. Moomin rounded the table quickly, and Snufkin, even quicker, brought his leg up, stepping onto the backrest and pushing the rest of his body up and over in one fell swoop. The couch tipped precariously, but Snufkin landed behind it before it could come down with him. The dishes crashed loudly as it righted itself. Definitely broke something.

Snufkin did not have time to dwell on it. As soon as Moomin realised he had evaded him once more, he surged, his feet slipping on the hardwood floor and the edge of the carpet as he hurried around the furniture, not light enough to risk going over it like Snufkin had. Snufkin laughed at his stumbling and made haste in the opposite direction. Moomin snorted with amused frustration, turned around, and Snufkin did the same, leading him round and around the couch.

Finally fed up, Moomin knelt onto it, causing worse clinking from its shattered contents, and tried to make a grab for him over the side as Snufkin passed. Unfortunately for him, Snufkin was light footed and for the dozenth time that morning, he jumped back.

Unfortunately for Snufkin, that came at its own cost when his hip made contact with the side table by the adjacent armchair and sent it wobbling. On impulse, Snufkin's arm shot out and caught the lamp.

And in that same moment of distraction did Moomin finally catch him, barrelling into him and sending Snufkin falling in place of the furniture. The air was knocked out of his lungs as his backside made contact with the ground, and then again as Moomin followed suit atop of him. For as soft as he was, that softness did little against the sheer weight of him, and for a moment Snufkin was crushed.

He oohed miserably, and Moomin scrambled to rise off of him, paws coming down on either side of Snufkin's waist to balance, and Snufkin wheezed in a much needed breath, ribcage rising with relief.

"Are you okay?" Moomin asked, fraught with concern.

"Yes, yes," Snufkin assured him, voice still choked.

Moomin inspected him fretfully. "Nothing broken?"

Snufkin's eyes drew to the object still held safely in his outstretched grip. "If you're asking about your lamp, it survived," he answered, chortling at his own joke. He lowered his paw, releasing his hold and allowing the fixture to roll onto the floor.

Moomin frowned down at him, clearly not as amused. "I don't care about the lamp, I'm asking about you."

"I am doing wonderfully!" Snufkin exclaimed, euphoria bubbling out.

Moomin did not seem so easily convinced. "Are you certain?" he pressed, still looking over him for any sign of injury. Goodness, how fussy he was, this troll!

Snufkin reached out quickly, cupping his snout, and pulled himself up, kissing Moomin hard. "I am unharmed," he assured as he dropped his head back to the floor.

"Good," Moomin answered, voice soft with a mix of relief and fondness.

There was a moment of near stillness where they stared at each other, Snufkin's thumb rubbing over the other's fur. Sweat rolled from the back of his knee down his thigh, a tickling sensation. He felt burning hot. Moomin reached out and tenderly moved the hairs out of his face.

"Well, seems I've got you now," Moomin finally spoke. It might have been a proud announcement, were his voice not taken by the intimacy of the moment, turning into something soft and wonderous.

Snufkin did not bother to answer. He simply pulled Moomin back down, and kissed him again, delighted in finally, finally, being under him. Moomin sighed happily into it. They stayed like that for a minute, nuzzling each other affectionately, allowing their heart rates to come down until they weren't so terribly winded. A purr built up in Snufkin's chest, helping along. He indulged in the moment until his sides stopped aching. Then, Snufkin drew his paws away, nuzzled…

...and pushed down on the ground, sliding himself out from under Moomin.

Unfortunately, he wasn't efficient enough. His bent knee caught on Moomin's arm, and the troll dropped back down like a weight, locking them in place, his arm around Snufkin's hip joint.

"Nice try," Moomin grinned up at him, and Snufkin laughed at his own mistake, accepting his defeat. Suppose he had to concede eventually.

Moomin lowered his head, dragging his snout across his stomach, breathing him in, and Snufkin succumbed to exhaustion, allowing his body to melt under the troll's, happy and lazy. He stared at the beamed ceiling as Moomin crawled up him, settling only on one half of him so as not to crush, his snout tucking into Snufkin's shoulder as he tended to like doing, breath warm against his neck. Snufkin stretched his back out, and Moomin laid his paw against his chest.

Snufkin turned his face, burying it into the curve between Moomin's snout and forehead, against his closed eyes. Moomin's paw began to trail down the thin, pilled fabric of his gown, mapping his form underneath it. It ran down below his soft stomach, and Snufkin tried to remember to breathe as fingers traced the line of his pelvis, and found where the fabric opened up, stretched around the tops of his thighs.

They wormed their way beneath, brushing his fur, and grazed against him. Snufkin failed in his task, lungs stuttering from the coiling in his gut. Moomin rubbed his face against his, exhaling in his place, the hot air sliding against Snufkin's neck. Snufkin clutched the troll's upper arm, trying to stay afloat in the waves he knew were fast approaching. His fingers dug into the muscle there, and then there was only him and Moomin; nothing but the touch of their bodies.

Two fingers laid flat against him, gently and slowly feeling along him like they didn't know him by memory. They stroked up and down, and the air finally pushed past Snufkin's throat. Moomin hummed in return, cupping him in his large paw, warm and soft as it molded to the curve of his pelvis. The palm pressed down against his length where he was high-strung, both relieving and feeding the ache.

Snufkin held on as best he could, sinking under Moomin's care. His touch was sweet and butter-soft, making pleasant delight seep through him. Snufkin's breaths whistled out through his nose, and Moomin's fingers started to rub in circles, spreading the wetness. They curled, dragging up against him, and Moomin established a rhythm in a rolling-petting motion that rocked Snufkin with waves of slow, gentle gratification.

"I've missed you," Moomin murmured, letting Snufkin feel the words more than hear them, and Snufkin gently butt his forehead against his in a scolding.

"Don't speak of it."

Moomin huffed a small laugh, like he'd expected it. There was a beat, and then his paw slowed to a snail's pace, fingers parting further to feel a wider area, moving over him in great interest. Snufkin realised quickly what he'd done. The cunning troll, putting all those thoughts into his touch instead. Snufkin might have gotten upset with him, were he not weak to such love.

He sighed as Moomin's fingers lowered, following the runoff to that little bridge of sensitive skin below, made heavily slippery like river stones. He rubbed there for a moment, calm and soothing, before working his way back up to the source. The finger sank easily against his opening, but did not go any further, not daring to breach so soon. It only stood there for a torturous minute, appreciating the give of his body and leaving Snufkin tense.

Snufkin's eyes opened to an intense blue, finding Moomin staring back at him, so close neither could see much of anything clearly, yet they could not look away. Moomin's finger began moving again, slowly rising up the split of him and increasing that tension in Snufkin like pushing a lever. Snufkin held his breath.

And then Moomin reached him, dipping underneath the hood and dragging up to the tip and Snufkin broke in a whimper, body jerking from the sudden eruption, too acute to hold in. Snufkin's fingers tightened into Moomin's arm like a claw, likely painful, though Moomin did not say a word. He simply rolled the skin down between his fingers, and Snufkin shook, and the pleasure was such a confused, overwhelming muddle that he knew if he let it go on any longer he would finish so abruptly as to wind him out.

Moomin had to have known this too, and been aiming for it. How could he not? He understood Snufkin's body nearly as well as Snufkin himself; knew where he felt strongest of all; recognised all the signs.

Snufkin's mind recalled their game, and he thought it very unfair that he should be made to finish so early, and lose to Moomin's talented hand. He hadn't evaded him so long only to then be played like a fiddle before he could do anything to Moomintroll in turn.

And so, in an instant burst of adrenaline, Snufkin pushed against the troll and scrambled out from under him. Moomin let him go much too easily, for Snufkin's liking, who had been expecting a wrestle. He stopped short of making a proper escape in his confusion, on all fours just a foot from where he'd been. It crossed his mind then that Moomin might have misunderstood, and Snufkin looked back to him, tail high and wagging to signal to him that they were playing.

That moment's hesitation had been his mistake, one he caught on too late, when he saw that the troll had risen to a kneel and looked far too prepared to chase. Snufkin's head whipped forward, and his paws slipped uselessly against the floor. There was no luck, he'd missed his chance. Moomin caught him, of course. Only it was the way in which he caught him that was notable.

Snufkin cried in great delight at the intense sensation that shot up his spine and melted into his gut. His tail was stiff in Moomin's familiar grip. His wonderful, excitingly familiar grip. If there was anyone who knew Snufkin's buttons and just how to press them (or pull on them, as it were), it was Moomintroll.

The tail matter had been something they'd discovered slowly. Moomin had been only gentle with it when they had first become intimate—fascinated, but gentle. No one had touched Snufkin's tail before Moomintroll. Rarely had anyone seen it at all. He hadn't known then what it would do to him, the way pleasure could course through him like that, the way his trousers could pool at a touch too long. Moomin would stroke it carefully, combing through the fluff, simply curious and admiring, and Snufkin would be left like on a hook, gasping for breath, strung and desperate for something he did not know. Something more intense.

That something had been a shock, the day they'd found it. Moomin had pulled on his tail by accident. He hadn't meant to, Snufkin had simply moved at the wrong time. And the sound that had escaped him when it happened had startled them both. Moomin had released him in an instant, with a flood of apologies and soothing caresses. And Snufkin had struggled to regain his senses from the way his entire body had lit up.

Once he'd gathered them back up, the first thing out of his mouth had been a request for Moomin to do it again.

Moomin had been apprehensive, of course. He'd been worried about hurting him, the fussy troll. But it had only taken another investigation, and another listen to Snufkin's cry, to convince him. Snufkin had discovered a sensation he didn't know his body capable of. He had been left writhing and choking like a fish upon dry land as Moomin had sunk his fingers into him and wrung all he could out of the discovery.

Snufkin's tail had been sore for a whole day. But they'd done it again, after that, using it strategically so as not to overdo it. Something so potent had to be handled with care.

And Moomin, fully aware of what he was doing, had chosen to use it now. How brilliant he was.

Moomin dragged him back, and Snufkin moaned at the way his vertebrae pulled in a delicious stretch. His shaky legs slid wider apart on the hardwood floor, and Moomin bowed over him, nuzzling into the dip of his back. Snufkin's skin wrinkled itself up with the contact and he pushed his hips up slightly. Moomin's thumb smoothed up and down against the fluffy underside of his tail for a moment, making Snufkin shiver, and then he gave another quick tug.

Snufkin mewled in response, the stir in his gut fizzling briefly, not giving him enough to fall apart to, but certainly enough to cause a rush of slick from between his legs. With a chuckle, Moomin eased off his back and slid his paw from his tail, moving his hold to his waist instead. His warm paws molded to him like they belonged. And then Moomin was rudely flipping him.

Snufkin landed onto his back with his thighs up and wide apart, bare below the waist. Moomin switched his paws and pulled him closer, Snufkin's hair dragging behind him, his bunched gown rolling itself up at his back. Moomin arched over him, and Snufkin instantly reached out and clutched his fur, pulling him closer and staring back with open desperation.

Have me, he thought. Have me, have me, have me...

His skin prickled against the cold floor, his core seeped warmth and wet discomfort below his knotted stomach. His heart squeezed with need. He felt hollow and hungry, arching his body up into Moomin's belly. Moomin reacted by attacking Snufkin's chest, the collarbones peeking from under his gown, his neck… He pressed a flurry of insistent nuzzles, and Snufkin laughed under the barrage of affection, pushing against Moomin's forehead. Moomin did not relent, preferring to smother him until they were both laughing.

"Will you stay put now?" Moomin asked with amusement.

Snufkin nodded, pressing his lips to the other's scruff. He had no intention of doing such thing, of course. But he could play along for a little while, if it got him what he wanted.

Once he had thoroughly covered him in affection and assured himself that Snufkin wouldn't be attempting another escape, Moomin leaned back, took hold of the hem of his dress and lifted. Snufkin let go of him and arched, helping him slide it up, then stretched his arms out so Moomin could pull it over his head. It came off swiftly, light blue fabric thrown aside into a lump like a cloud, and Moomin bent back down.

He dragged his nose across Snufkin's chest, taking deep whiffs of him, and Snufkin's paws fell on either side of Moomin's head, just below his ears, holding him close. Moomin left a mumrik kiss against his sternum, then followed the trail of fur downwards. Snufkin shivered at the breath below his stomach.

Moomin pushed his thighs further apart with a touch that was as reverent as it was hungry, pressing his fingers into the softness like shaping clay. Snufkin felt as though Moomin should have left grooves in him by now. The most he'd left were loving bruises that healed over quickly.

Moomin pressed his lips to him, gently kissing him there as he always did. His nose rested against the curve of stomach, breathing against his skin. Snufkin sighed under the adoration, went limp in habit. It wasn't quite what he'd been hoping to get, but he was not about to complain, not when the troll did it so well.

Moomin started moving, closing his lips around him, warm and soft, drawing off, and then again. Snufkin shivered as the sensation tingled through him. Moomin tasted him as though sucking spilled jam off his fur, unburdened and attentive, a task well savoured. His tongue spilled from his lips, dragged up against him, pushing at his skin, and Snufkin could only delight in the way it ignited him.

Moomin's right paw left his hip, and slipped underneath his own snout. He circled his tongue slowly around Snufkin as he touched him below, petting lightly at his damp skin and moving coarse hairs out of the way. Once Moomin was satisfied, he brought a finger inwards, slipping up through that central part of him like one splits a blade of grass, then back down. It found his entrance where it teased him, dipping into his gathered slick, and Snufkin whimpered, hoping.

Moomin still did not give it to him. Instead, another finger joined, and Moomin spread them out, pulling him apart. His tongue moved down, tip running over bumps and depressions to reach the place where Snufkin hungered and where Moomin pressed the flat of it, and then started to lap.

Moomin's other paw joined down below as well, combing down the fur of his tail to work him up further. Snufkin's thighs trembled and he pushed against Moomin's mouth as his insides coiled. Moomin mouthed against him, sucked, and traced shapes into him dutifully, knowing exactly what to do to make Snufkin feel good. He had years of practice after all, had charted his body better than anyone, and Snufkin knew by now that the troll enjoyed doing it immensely.

But in that moment, Snufkin needed him terribly. He squeezed Moomin's arms to let him know. Moomin caught on to his needs and took pity. He licked at him a few more times for good measure, along the full of him, tongue flat the way Snufkin liked it, then drew off. Snufkin breathed in the moment of respite as Moomin sat up.

It didn't last long, however, as the troll scooted himself between the cradle arch of Snufkin's legs. He brought a sticky paw to himself to guide, and lay against him, firm and thick along the length of him and Snufkin gasped. Moomin huffed softly above him, dragging long and shaky, looking as though he were barely managing to contain himself.

Goodness… He hadn't gotten anything until then, Snufkin realised. Not a touch, yet he had been so patient. With adoration, Snufkin reached down, setting fingers over Moomin's to help him stay aligned. Moomin stilled for a beat, looked up into his eyes.

And then he let go of himself, slipping out from under Snufkin's paw and allowing the other to hold him there instead. He began rocking against him again, gathering that wetness onto himself and rubbing against Snufkin's stiffness with every movement as he set those familiar paws back on Snufkin's body, running up and down his sides with intense affection. His touch burned deeper than his skin, charting old routes, and Snufkin arched up into it. They'd known each other so long… That they would get to know each other like this again and again… Snufkin could never get enough of it. His heart squeezed in his chest at the thought.

Moomintroll was dear as could be. He was the best of friends that Snufkin could have asked for, and the lover he wouldn't have dared to dream of for a vagabond such as himself. Moomintroll had understood him unlike anyone else. At times Snufkin could hardly believe they had ended up here at all. What they held between them was so precious that Snufkin had feared it for very long, until he had finally succumbed and allowed Moomin to hold his heart.

And how life changing that had been. All that had been important and that he'd feared of losing had stayed, and on top of it had come a flood of new experiences. New affections, uncontained, new closeness, new indulgence, new calm, new excitement, new trust… and great relief. Snufkin had gotten to take all that he had craved for, and Moomin had given it with joy.

Even this, much as Snufkin had been ashamed of admitting to his wants at first. But Moomin had proven more than excited for it. Snufkin still remembered fondly how the troll had cried at the prospect of being allowed to touch him so intimately. He had barely been able to do it at all, through how emotive he'd been. Snufkin had shed a few tears himself, though he would deny it if reminded.

He had expected the desire to wane after they had satisfied it, but it had only bloomed, demanding more and more until it had become simply another little habit they shared between them. And their excitement for it had remained much the same, even now. It certainly helped that Moomin did very good work.

The troll in question patted the ground until he found Snufkin's free paw and took it in his. Then, surprisingly, he reached down between them with his other one, slipping his fingers under Snufkin's, and took that paw as well. Snufkin made a noise of confusion, not quite understanding. 

Moomin arched over his body, pushing Snufkin's bent legs up. His belly melted against his, keeping the both of them pressed to each other. He tucked his snout back into his neck, and then fanned their joint arms out like wings, bringing them up, and folding them by Snufkin's head, pinning them there. Snufkin felt the weight shift onto his palms in a comforting pressure. Their fingers laced together, Snufkin's own curling along and fitting between Moomin's like the space were meant for it.

Moomin rolled his hips in the new position, firm and careful not to move too far so that he wouldn't slip. Folded as he was, with the stretch in his legs, the lovely, slow friction, and the pressure and warmth of Moomin on top of him, Snufkin could only thaw with bliss under it all, feeling content, safe, and loved. His heart sang like a boiling kettle as he squeezed his legs around Moomin's sides, and a purr started in his chest. The troll rocked his back against the floor with the adoring motions, two bodies slotting against themselves like wood joints. 

"Snufkin," Moomin breathed. "Snufkin, Snufkin, Snuf—!" His chant broke off into a moan and Snufkin was taken by fondness at hearing his name on Moomin's tongue with such great devotion.

"Moomintroll," he sighed in response, pleading for more. His whole body thrummed with delight, but it wasn't enough. Snufkin was greedy for it.

"Yes?" Moomin asked in habit, always waiting paw and foot on Snufkin's needs.

"I want you."

Instead of the expected reaction, Moomin huffed out a laugh. "For one who complained about too easy," he spoke as he moved against him, "you are certainly making it easy now."

Snufkin blinked, processing, then smiled. He thought of the wonderful feelings coursing through his body, the gratification of being touched, and how easy it all seemed now, to want and be wanted. "Perhaps I like being a little easy, at times," he said, and turned his head, pressing his lips below Moomin's ear to add, "If I truly didn't wish for you to catch me, then you wouldn't have caught me."

Moomin only laughed once more, hot puffs of breath against his skin. "Oh, so you bumped into the table on purpose then?" He teased, and Snufkin felt his cheeks go warm, and refused to comment. Moomin chuckled again, likely proud at catching him on his error, and pushed his hips firmly against him with a moan.

The action caused him to slip out of position, rubbing against Snufkin's fur instead. He released one of Snufkin's paws, reaching down once more to correct, and it was with that break in the moment that the pliant, cottony softness in Snufkin's mind dissolved and an inclination for defiance struck in its place. Moomin was getting far too full of himself, in Snufkin's honest opinion.

"I don't have to give in like this, you know,? If you want me difficult…" That was the only warning he gave, though by that point it was too late to stop him. The impulse had taken over, and he moved.

He pushed at Moomin's shoulder and Moomin, caught off guard and with his balance unsteady, went easy, allowing himself to be rolled onto his back, one of his paws still entwined with Snufkin's. Snufkin straddled him quickly and pinned that paw down like the troll had done to his.

Like this, he was finally able to look at him properly, and oh did Snufkin love him. Moomin stood fully erect and eager, darkly flushed with barely satisfied desire, underside shiny with Snufkin's slick—the only evidence that he had gotten any relief. Snufkin sat just below, and scooted up into it until it nestled into his coarse fur. He pet it close, keeping it against him like something dear that he promised to tend to, and it twitched with desperation.

It had a lovely curve, and an even lovelier width, thickening along the midpoint then tapering again closer to the sheath. It would ease in easily and sit cozily inside of him, only to open him wider around it when Moomin drew back. And every one of its ridges would drag inside of him as he did so, as if reluctant to leave him and to lose their connection.

Snufkin shuddered at the ghost sensation, and felt a whole new rush of slick. Oh dear… Oh dear, oh dear. He had to ask himself just how much longer he could wait. And how much longer Moomin could wait, as well. The poor thing had begun to leak.

Snufkin brushed his thumb along the tip, spreading the wetness, and Moomin made a pitiful sound like a warble. Snufkin chuckled, encouraged, and wrapped his paw properly around him, fitting it into the cupped shape of his palm. His small fingers couldn't reach all the way around where it was thickest, he knew. He twisted his wrist, dragging up, and Moomin moaned. Snufkin's grip tightened and loosened as he moved along him, working him for a moment, just for the fun of it and seeing Moomin's reactions.

Snufkin didn't linger too long, however. He had a goal to turn the tables, after all. He scooted closer, sliding himself up along Moomin's length and pushing it into the other's stomach. Moomin gasped, clutching onto his thighs, and Snufkin placed a paw atop his belly for support, quickly freed his other one so he could tilt his body back properly, and then started moving.

He ground happily against Moomin, spooling that energy trapped within him into a tight ball. He revelled in having the upper-hand as Moomin bucked beneath him, moaning and groaning unabashedly, undone by the quick and loose pace of the mumrik on top of him. The troll's paws came to rub up and down his hips and thighs, going over some of those rivulet lines that adorned Snufkin's skin where it had pulled. Moomin had always been fascinated with them, as if he had any such scars himself, there was no way to know through the dense fur.

Snufkin's whole body rolled into a very nice drag, and a small cry escaped him. Moomin responded with a deep, desirous groan, eyes fixed on him, trailing over his body, following every movement. His paws stopped, squeezing the fat of Snufkin's hip and holding on like a lifeline. Snufkin kept close watch of his face, wondering what Moomin was thinking, what he must have looked like to him, and he tried to put on as best of a show as he could.

He went until he was strung, his gut twisting with warm satisfaction, at which point he stuttered to an abrupt stop. Moomin made a confused sound, loosening his hold and sliding his paws up…

And then Snufkin was escaping his grasp once more, throwing himself to the side, rolling onto his bottom, and launching up. Moomin scrambled to sit, calling his name, but Snufkin was already far ahead of him, at the other end of the room by the stairs, turning to watch the troll as he struggled to rise off the floor, still a bit dazed.

"This isn't fair," he grumbled, sounding much like he'd been expecting it.

"I made no promise," Snufkin told him.

"You're impossible, you know that? You just do what ever you want."

"You let me."

Moomin stared at him. He had to know it was the truth. After a beat he lowered his snout and pressed his paw over his eyes with a sigh. He stood like that for a moment, long enough for Snufkin to start getting concerned that he'd ruined it, before he finally dropped the paw.

"Okay," he conceded, locked eyes with him, and strode towards him with determination.

Snufkin let him get close enough to almost reach for him before he lunged up the stairs for the second time that morning, taking two steps at a time.

"Careful!" Moomin cried after him, hurrying to the foot of the staircase. "Don't get hurt again!"

"Wasn't hurt," Snufkin reminded him. He was lighter than Moomintroll, with longer legs, and thus far quicker, and had already made it to the landing before Moomin had even started his climb. Snufkin stopped, waited again, letting him get close once more.

Moomin looked up at him, knowing well from the last time that he stood no chance and that Snufkin would get hasty, and seemingly deciding to change his approach. He slowly set one foot onto the first step, lifted himself onto it, and then another. He made his way up slowly, not once taking his eyes off of Snufkin. The tension pulled like taffy between them. Snufkin could feel his tail quiver with anticipation. He squeezed his arms into his chest, brought his feet close together, clutching to his built-up excitement, and waited eagerly for Moomin to finally reach him.

He got very near. Every muscle in Snufkin's body told him to run, but he locked in place. Moomin rose onto the step until they were eye level, and then there was a beat where something passed between them and Snufkin's chest grew under the immensity of it. He reached out himself, drawn to him like to a snare, and grazed the tips of his fingers against Moomin's shoulder. Moomin climbed another step, the last one, suddenly looming over him. Too close.

Snufkin turned, but it was too late now, and Moomin caught his arm easily, finally stepping onto the landing. Snufkin went, pulling him along and using the momentum to spin them around. Moomin stumbled, hit the wall, and Snufkin right after, crowding him against it.

He was so short and Moomin so large that it was almost comical. It did little in ways of actually keeping him there, yet Snufkin indulged in the illusion of control anyhow. He pressed all of himself to Moomin, rubbed his face into his chest fur, struggled to keep his paws to the wall on either side of Moomin's wide body.

Moomin laughed, pulled his arms out from his hold, and that made it easier, allowing Snufkin's arms to wrap closer around his chest. Moomin's fingers combed through his hair tenderly, a paw coming around to cup his cheek, the other to the back of his head, and he tilted his face up. Snufkin moved back with understanding, pushed himself up onto his toes so that Moomin could bend down to kiss him, mouth against mouth.

They moved in tandem, swallowing each other's breaths in their built-up ardor. The paws at Snufkin's nape and jaw pulled him in close, as if they could melt into one. Snufkin's own raked over Moomin's body and twisted into fur with rough and restless desire, unable to quell the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

He tugged Moomin's lip between his teeth, released, seeked him out again with a sway, like a hungering ocean, and Moomin interlocked with him for that messy drag apart, and the gasping return. He delivered their entangled abandon with feverish heat and brush of tongue, chafing Snufkin's hair into the back of his neck as his paw squeezed.

Snufkin froze at the pressure like something caught, head and lungs vacant. Moomin's lips pursed against his, and then the troll pulled away. His paw eased up and slid down Snufkin's hair, over the bumps in his spine as the strands parted, and to the point of his shoulder blade. The other trailed down the side of his neck and into the dip of his collarbone. Snufkin's head struggled to return to him, still stunned.

That must have been Moomin's plan, as he took quick advantage of it. Paws slipped under Snufkin's armpits, and before he had a chance to react he was being swept up and spun. His back met the narrow wall between two doors and the air was knocked out of him, his senses crashing down to him at once.

Moomin pressed himself to his front, keeping him pinned there like Snufkin had tried to do to him before. Snufkin gripped onto the arms that held him, his legs lifting in an attempt to wrap around Moomin's large frame. They could do little more than squeeze his sides.

Moomin dragged his nose up his neck, along his jaw, and then the shell of his ear, breath loud and hot, and Snufkin tilted his head, searching for Moomin's mouth to kiss him again. Nearly 30 Years they'd known each other, 6 months out of every year, and he had never gotten over how Moomin could draw such affection out of him.

Moomin pulled away and shifted him lower against the wall. The wallpaper squeaked against Snufkin's sweaty back. His legs slipped. He let go of Moomin's arms to loop his own around the troll's neck securely, forcing him to hunch down but allowing him to release his hold under his armpits.

Moomin's paws fell down to Snufkin's rump and dragged along his thighs, lifting them back up and hooking behind his knees. The position shifted the angle of his hips, and Snufkin could feel the ghost touch of Moomin so close to him. He rocked closer, trying to chase the contact. It twitched up against him and Snufkin gasped, shivers running up his spine. His arms nearly slipped, but Moomin had him well supported against the wall, making sure he wouldn't fall.

Snufkin loved this. Nothing exhilarated him like Moomin's shows of strength. Especially when used on him in such manner, rendering him limp and receptive in Moomin's arms. Moomin could bury into him right then. He was so close, and Snufkin so ready. The stretch of his spread thighs only made the need worse.

"Have me," Snufkin demanded finally, the words forcing themselves out of him in a breath. Moomin answered with his own, rumbling like a storm against the crown of Snufkin's head, where he briefly pressed his snout.

"I've got you," Moomin promised. "Do you need me to get the lubricant?"

"No, no," Snufkin assured him, shaking his head, face full of fur. "I'm well enough this time, I believe." He was quite certain of it, in fact. He was very excited.

Moomin, ever worrying, did not stop there, though he straightened, pinning him further. "You didn't forget to use the cream while you were gone did you?"

Snufkin scoffed. "Of course not." He knew his own body well enough, and knew what it meant—it was necessary or the inflammation would return. Snufkin had never much enjoyed having to take medicine, but he had gotten used to those he needed. If he had any intention of doing such things with Moomin then he had to make sure he could take it. It was never all that much fun to apply it on his own, of course, but he hadn't intended to be away very long, and had been hoping to get Moomin soon after his return, so he had done it.

"I don't want you to hurt," Moomin told him, voice softening like Snufkin wouldn't have already known.

"Oh Moomintroll…"

"If you need the lubricant…"

"I'll tell you if I do," Snufkin reassured him, and that seemed to be enough.

A paw left one of Snufkin's knees, causing him to shift under the lack of support. He tried his best to hold on, to keep his leg there until Moomin slid the paw underneath their bodies and Snufkin could rest his thigh onto his forearm.

Snufkin's tail brushed against Moomin's knuckles as the troll took hold of himself, positioning them. Gently, the head pressed to Snufkin where he was soft and wet and yielding. His breath cut off for a moment, and then he released. Moomin pushed in.

Snufkin tried to meet him as best he could, sinking further onto him. Moomin's paw slid back up to his knee, readjusting, and with the position and his freed hips, Snufkin let gravity do the work and slid down effortlessly in one smooth motion that had them both vocalize in relief.

Moomin ground into him, pressing him further into the hard wall at his back, and Snufkin felt himself truly pinned, nailed like a painting. The excitement of being so trapped coursed through him. Combined with the feeling of Moomin fitting into him, he was left tremorring. His tail flailed desperately under where they were joined. He buried his face into the fur of Moomin's chest and clenched around him, causing Moomin to groan. Snufkin's arms tightened around his neck, his fingers dug into Moomin's scruff, down to his skin. Had he any claws they would have left marks.

Moomin drew back, beginning to thrust in earnest, at first slow and steady, rocking him against the wall like waves crashing against the shore, sending rolling currents of pleasure through him. Then he quickened, hammering him into it with fervor, strong and desiring. And he made the most exhilarating of noises that only riled Snufkin up further and pulled sounds out of him in turn.

He mewled with delight as he was bounced easily onto the troll, falling back with each thrust. His legs swung with the motion, his insides sparked at the sudden overwhelming burst of pleasure that he was hardly able to parse through. He just wanted more—more of Moomin. Moomin, Moomin, Moomin…

"Snufkin," Moomin gasped. "You're so good, so—" Moomin's pace broke and he slowed for an unbearable few thrusts, drawing in and out, letting Snufkin breathe and feel every inch of him with intensity, worked up and sensitive. Snufkin shuddered against his fur, delight climbing up his spine. "I love you," Moomin continued. "I love you."

"Moomintroll…"

And then the troll bucked once, shifted him higher up the wall from where he had slipped, and his paws slid along his thighs to the joint with his rump, between his legs, supporting him onto his wrists. He brushed over Snufkin's length for a moment, causing his stomach to tighten, and then Moomin's fingers walked themselves lower and pulled him open around his shaft, heightening the sensation. One paw stayed, squeezing the meat of his rump to keep the stretch on one side, fingers tugging at his skin again every time they would slip, while the other paw released and went even further, catching Snufkin's tail mid-thrash. And then Moomin started anew. Snufkin nearly screamed, and held his release as best as he could.

Split onto him as he was, shaking and unravelling, he worried he no longer had an escape out of this one, and that the game would be truly over. He wasn't ready for it to end.

Thankfully, Moomin seemed to have the same idea, and did not bring them to finish just yet. He shifted their balance, holding Snufkin by the rump, and moved off the wall. Snufkin's sweaty skin unstuck audibly from the wallpaper, and Moomin slipped out, leaving him empty, but Snufkin did not get to dwell on it as the troll spun them. He clutched on for dear life, and the other just laughed, and started to stumble backwards to the nearest door. He pushed it open with his bottom, and Snufkin recognised right away where they were headed. 

Moomin called it the study, like the one his father had, though it had little of anything to earn it such a name. One would have considered it more of a game or hobby room with a library, the walls lined with shelves upon which sat a hodgepodge of things—books and game boards, marbles and puzzles, pliers and antique cameras, and boxes of Moomin's old drawings, which no one but he was allowed to look in (Snufkin still did, of course, and he rather liked Moomin's drawings). There was no proper desk in the room, only a small table for tea—placed under the window with its billowing curtains—as well as two chairs and…

...in the center, a large billiards table.

Snufkin hung eagerly onto Moomin, tail wagging, waiting to be deposited onto its green felt surface. It wouldn't be the first time he would find himself lain upon it, and he was very happy to do it again.

The table had been a housewarming gift from Moominpappa, carved by him truly, clawfooted and low, built to moomin height. Snufkin didn't think Moomintroll had ever played a game of billiards, he didn't even know if they had all the balls for it (he suspected Little My had made away with a few over her visits). Instead, the table has seen much usage for card games and… other manner of games.

What else were they to do with it? It was sturdy enough to hold them both, after all, which couldn't be said of most other tables. The felt underneath was worn and familiar, and Snufkin was never not delighted about finding himself on it. Billiards had so very many rules, after all, and they were breaking each and every one of them.

As it happened, he did not get to be lowered onto it as he would have liked. They had only stepped into the room when Moomin's hold on his legs slipped, and Snufkin's feet hit the floor. There was only a brief second of confusion before he was quickly pulled onto his toes as the troll arched out of his hunch, pressing his paw to his back.

"Ow!"

"Goodness!" Snufkin exclaimed, letting go of his neck and falling onto his heels once more. "Are you well?"

"Just strained my back a bit," Moomin brushed off the concern as if it weren't terribly worrying indeed.

Snufkin quickly went around him. "Here?" He asked, pressing his paw next to Moomin's own. Moomin made a noise of confirmation and Snufkin pushed his fingers through his fur, digging into the muscle beneath to loosen it. He alternated the pressure from each paw, kneading him like dough, then curled his fingers in to work with his knuckles instead. Moomin took away his own paw with a sigh, allowing him to soothe the area.

"Perhaps you shouldn't lift me so," Snufkin suggested, though he wasn't too fond of the idea himself. "You could injure yourself."

"As if that would stop me. I was only lifting you wrong. Not using my legs, you know," Moomin responded stubbornly, and Snufkin could only smile.

"Of course," he told him, choosing to go along with it.

Moomin's paw reached back, searching until it found his waist. And when it did, he pulled him closer against him. "I love you," he spoke softly.

Snufkin knew that well, and felt it too. He pressed his lips to his fur in place of a response. "Better?"

"Much. Thank you."

Snufkin patted his rump, earning himself a surprised and discontent noise from Moomin. He chuckled and wrapped his fingers loosely around the other's tail, sliding his paw up to the tuft as he stepped back around, holding onto it like a tether. The tip flicked, brushing the inside of his arm, and Moomin's gaze softened.

"Well enough to continue?" Snufkin asked.

"Please," Moomin answered and reached out. Snufkin released his tail and took the offered paw instead. Moomin's fingers curled around his smaller ones, and squeezed. "Are you?"

"Of course," Snufkin chuckled. "Shouldn't you know what I'm like?"

"Right," Moomin spoke with amusement, and puffed his chest comically. "Can't get enough."

With that, he made his stiffness bob between his legs like a wagging tail and Snufkin exploded with uncontrollable laughter, his knees giving out and causing him to fall into a kneel, hunched over himself as his body shook, still holding Moomin's paw. He pressed his free one over his mouth to try and quell his laughter. Moomin responded in kind, evidently delighted in the reaction he had gotten.

It took a few moments for Snufkin to calm himself down a bit, his cheeks painful as he finally looked back up at the troll. Moomin tugged him to his feet and Snufkin stumbled into his chest, giggles escaping him. He pressed his face into the fur for a beat, as Moomin stroked down his back.

"Oh dear," Snufkin finally managed to speak as he pulled his face back out. "Suppose I can't, you are terribly impressive."

Moomin chuckled back. "Don't mock me."

"Oh I assure you," Snufkin told him steadily as he reached down between them and took hold of him, "no mockery."

Moomin sprung into his touch, bringing forth another round of laughter from Snufkin, who muffled it into his chest once more, and squeezed him. Moomin continued to stroke over his back until the tremors subsided.

Snufkin then released him and stepped back, taking a deep breath, their joint paws stretching out between them. Right, enough silliness. Snufkin locked eyes with Moomin, and led him further into the room, to the trusty billiards table.

There were a few stains in the felt which they had not been able to wash out, and Moomin would cover them with a strategically placed speed cloth, or at times a board game, though he kept promising to replace the felt (he kept promising to replace many things, and then didn't).

Snufkin tore the cloth off, throwing it aside to land somewhere he didn't care, and Moomin pulled his paw free from his, bringing it to the small of his back instead, where it ran up and guided him gently to bend. Snufkin did so obligingly, stomach resting onto the edge of the table. He lifted his rump, legs apart, and looked back over his shoulder to make sure Moomintroll was watching.

"Is this because you couldn't have me in this way earlier?" He joked. Moomin's paw dragged back down his spine to his tail, and smoothed over it. Snufkin shivered, the skin of his back rising with the contact.

"It was cruel of you to tease," Moomin responded, then tugged him up by the tail, and Snufkin gasped on a whimper, lowered his face to the table, pushing his hips further back. Moomin met him, resting deliciously against him, and Snufkin ached, nerves on fire. He had held him, and then lost him when he was still heated, before he had enough. His mind and body languished over the memory, prompting Snufkin to rock his hips back as far as Moomin's hold on his tail would allow him, which was not much.

Moomin moved away, and Snufkin whined as the head slid down against him, then left him entirely, still refusing to return to him. He had given him a taste and then left him hungering once more, and that desire in him cried harder for being abandoned so. Moomin touched him with his thumb instead, rubbing slow, gentle circles over him, and pulling him apart with attention and adoration. 

"I like you every which way," Moomin continued. "But you did look very nice." He wiped his fingers on Snufkin's thigh and then lowered himself over his back, pressing him down, and spoke low above his ear. "I wanted you under me just like this."

"Oh," Snufkin said. Oh.

Moomin lifted his head, his paws coming to comb through his long hair tenderly, moving it off his shoulder. Snufkin's scalp tingled pleasantly. Another minute and he would have started purring. Moomin did not give him that.

"You're so wonderful… And so fickle," he scolded, amusement in his voice. "When you give yourself up like that, I just want to treasure you. I want to grant you everything I have. I want to make you shake and throw your head back like you do."

"Moomintroll," Snufkin gasped, suddenly very flustered. How could he say such things?

"That way you don't forget me when you're gone for too long," Moomin added, his paws smoothing down Snufkin's soft upper arms, and Snufkin's stomach dropped.

"It was only a week," he defended, his voice coming out far too pleading. Moomin's paws made their way up to his shoulders, and then down again.

"And did you forget me?"

"I'm back, am I not?" Snufkin asked in return, instead of answering.

Moomin pressed a kiss against his exposed shoulder; breathed against his ear; spoke into his skin, "I think of you all the time."

"I know," Snufkin said. Moomin continued his caressing.

"I thought of your face, and your hair, and your skin. I thought of your taste, I even thought of your wretched smell." A snort burst out of Snufkin, and Moomin nuzzled the shell of his ear.

"I thought of that too, your laugh," Moomin breathed fondly, trailing off into a thoughtful pause, his motions stilling. "I want to see your smile," he then said. "I hate to not look at you."

"Oh." Snufkin buried his face further into the felt, far too affected to let himself be seen. Moomin wasn't going to let him do that, of course. Paws squeezed his arms for a moment, then ran up his shoulders and down his sides to his waist. Snufkin shivered from the tickling sensation.

Moomin chuckled. "You smile so silly when you're under me, don't you know?"

Snufkin suddenly wished he could fall through the floor, but Moomin had him securely pinned, insistent on having him suffer through hearing such mortifying observations about himself. He had never noticed he did such a thing.

Moomin continued. "I love knowing you're happy. I love you."

Snufkin's chest fluttered. He raised his head, trying to look back, and Moomin lifted fully off of him, urging him to turn. Snufkin rose off and did so, but he barely had an instant before Moomin was pressing him against the billiards table again. Snufkin's back curved against the frame, the edge digging into him. Moomin had him trapped between his arms, molding to his shape. Snufkin's feet slipped against the floorboards and if it weren't for the other holding him there he might have slid right off and onto the floor.

Moomin pushed his snout under his ear, breathing warm. He squeezed Snufkin's sides. Snufkin's heart beat so strongly against his chest that he could feel it, and he suspected Moomin could too. He turned his face and kissed him, over and over against his snout, desperate.

Moomin slid his paws down to his thighs and lifted up so he could move him properly onto the table. Snufkin scooted himself off the raised edge and onto the felt, to the center, and Moomin climbed on after, crawling over to him. Snufkin breathed in heavily, lifting his hips. Moomin knelt, gently pulling him into his lap.

Snufkin watched his face hungrily as his lover looked over him with clear adoration in his eyes. His thumbs stroked Snufkin's stretch marks for a moment, before one paw left, and Moomin guided himself. Snufkin's paw curled around the wrist still at his hip, and squeezed. Moomin pushed in, slow and steady sinking into him with a groan. Snufkin tilted his head back as the joy of getting it once more overtook him, and his chest cavity bubbled with purrs.

Moomin bounced his hips slightly, testing the angle and sending small sparks of delight in Snufkin, who let go of his wrist and reached out for him. Moomin complied and tilted forward to let him take his snout and pull him down. He braced himself over him, heavy belly laying over his, back hunched so he wouldn't crush him, and sunk deeper in the process. Snufkin's insides flopped, pleasure blooming outward, and he locked his lips firmly against the short fur in a long, insistent kiss, muffling the sound that had nearly escaped him.

And then Moomin started rocking into him earnestly. Snufkin's arms looped around his neck, fingers digging into his fur, clinging on for dear life as he was thrown to the great sea of Moomin's adoration. Moomin put all of his body into the motion, the table thumping lightly to accompany them, legs lifting and falling with the shifting weight. The felt scratched Snufkin's back.

For once, he was aware of the pull at his cheeks. Moomin had been right, he really did smile. He couldn't help it. He had a wonderful troll who adored him, and whom he adored in turn. A troll who knew him in and out and did everything to make sure he was happy. He wondered what other things Moomin noticed about him, that he himself didn't know of. He wondered what secrets he knew about Moomin.

Perhaps the way his arm shook with exertion when he was over him; perhaps the way his ears flicked back and forth with his movements, but would snap forward every time Snufkin made a sound. Or the way his long tail moved through the air and would straighten out when Snufkin presumed he felt really good. Maybe even the way the stunning blue of his irises thinned from his blown pupils as he watched him, dark and glazed over.

Moomin choked on a grunt, those eyes closing shut, and he stopped, squeezing Snufkin's hips still as well. He tried to rise off of him, and Snufkin let him go, his arms falling from around his neck. Moomin heaved a breath, tense, and swallowed audibly. Oh dear… Snufkin thought, feeling equal relief at having avoided an untimely end as he felt pride about having affected Moomin so.

"Sorry… Sorry," the silly troll apologized, barely able to get the words out.

Snufkin pet up and down his arm reassuringly, building his purr back up and waiting for him to come down. It was only a moment more before Moomin's face relaxed, a sigh pouring out of him and the tension he held melting away. His eyes opened, and he looked at Snufkin.

"Good?" Snufkin asked. Moomin nodded, and his eyes softened further.

His paws found the Snufkin's thighs and slid under, bringing them higher, arms hooking under the knee. And then he was back down on him, folding Snufkin in half, mouth against the skin of his shoulder and moving again, building the pace up. Snufkin's arms wrapped around his scruff once more, bringing him as close as he could, the fire in him reigniting quickly.

Snufkin could feel himself slicken further, the position being one of his favourites. It felt closer, more private, their bodies more intertwined, and Snufkin could focus on the feelings. Moomin's steady, deliberate thrusts quaked through him when they hit, causing his thighs to shake, and delight slid into place in Snufkin's watery heart. He pushed back with a guttural cry, torn asunder by the slow burning need. More, he thought. More. More.

"Moomintroll!" was all he managed, choked and sobbing.

An arm slipped out from under one of his knees and Snufkin's freed leg kicked out into the air before falling back down. The paw came to cup his face tenderly, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. Moomin pressed a kiss to his temple, and then delivered all that Snufkin had wanted. Snufkin arched his back and rolled his hips into the thrusts, claiming the quick meet of their bodies, his mouth opening around silent cries and quick, jagged inhales. The thud of the billiards table sped up and grew among the messy meet of their bodies, drowning out the world.

Moomin got him with a particularly nice thrust, and Snufkin squeezed around him, holding on to the sensation. A great wave of pleasure rose into his stomach and came crashing down on itself, the deluge flooding through his entire body, all the way into his scalp, and fizzling. Snufkin's hips stuttered into Moomin's next motion. His lungs shuddered, breath irregular and not enough, not enough, and too much, too much pressure, too many sounds, too much touch, and he threw his head around, eyes shutting as his senses buzzed and the room squeezed in around him.

And then there was a paw moving shakily across his cheek, and fuzzy fingers dipping into his open mouth, which he closed right around them. They pressed against his tongue as Moomin slowed, and Snufkin steadied. Everything eased back into place around him and inside of him, and the air pulled through his nose once more. His eyes opened, vision refocusing slowly on Moomin. Moomin, with a gaze so tender and desirous.

"Hello," he spoke softly, breathy, clearly smiling through his voice. "Nearly lost you there."

Something warm settled in Snufkin's chest and he blinked slowly, to let him know—that he was there; that he was well; that he loved him.

And then he sucked, drawing his fingers in further, to let him know they were still going. A lovely noise slipped from the troll and he rocked forward, not releasing his eye. His fingers began to move between Snufkin's lips slightly, in time with his slowly quickening thrusts, and Snufkin let out a rumbling hum from his chest, encouraging.

That seemed too much for Moomintroll, who finally broke eye contact and fell in on himself, pushing his nose into Snufkin's neck and his hips into him. Snufkin's throat worked underneath with grunts, choked swallows and hums around Moomin's lovely fingers. His mouth watered; his tongue pressed them up against the roof of his mouth to anchor all the sensations; his core bloomed under Moomin's stirring, and he squeezed, hips jerking up involuntarily.

Moomin's groan rumbled like a storm and his fingers pulled out, his mouth covering Snufkin's instead. They both panted into the kiss as Moomin took hold of his thighs, fingers of one paw still wet against his skin, and pressed them further down and out, rolling his hips in wonderfully. The stretch made it that much more grand. Moomintroll's name spilled out of Snufkin like a plead, and Moomin swallowed it right up.

They didn't last very much longer, though Moomin tried as best he could. He slowed with shaky, jagged movements, almost reluctant and barely holding together. Snufkin knew they didn't have it in them to delay it that time, too wound up. The mewls pushed from his throat, insistent, and he clenched around Moomin in time, pushing for him to break.

And he did. The darling troll broke so admirably. He bucked without pace or restraint, squeezing Snufkin's thighs into a tight grip before he had to release to brace himself. His hot, open mouth latched onto his collarbone, leaving desperate kisses between whimpering cries. He pushed Snufkin against the felt as his belly rolled against his, the troll's whole body labouring over him with fervid worship.

It was that enthusiasm that finally threw Snufkin over the edge. The tension in him was strung and his body seized, tremors overtaking him like an earthquake. Moomin felt it and deepened his brisk thrusts, pushing into him as if encouraging the tight ball of pleasure in Snufkin's stomach to come loose. Snufkin felt the slide inside of him too intensely to handle, the movement sending waves up into him. He could hold no longer. It toppled, his stomach flopping as it fell and every nerve in him lighting up as he began to squeeze sporadically around Moomin. He tightened his arms around Moomin's neck, holding on lest he lose him to the spasming of his body as he threw his head back in a silent scream.

Moomin followed suit, urged forward by Snufkin's body. He cried out loudly at the clench, bucking frenziedly, before gripping Snufkin's hips once more, pulling him close as he ground into him. Through the thrum still coursing between his legs, Snufkin felt him pulse, and a buildup of warmth seeped through him. All that pleasure melted like butter with Moomin's shallow movements.

Snufkin opened the eyes he hadn't realised he'd closed and watched the troll's pinched face, his eyes squeezed shut. Moomin exhaled with relief. He drew back slightly and slid into him twice more for good measure, enjoying the twitch of Snufkin's muscles before he properly stopped and gazed back. Snufkin smiled, panting. Moomin returned it, and pulled out with a final slick noise to mark the end of their game.

Snufkin let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling.

He sucked air into his heavy, caged lungs, his body rattling like the lid on an empty pot after being drained so thoroughly. He swallowed, dissolving like seafoam in the wake of their storm, and felt much like a creature washed ashore, with nothing left to him but the slow exhaustion and the ebb of all that had engulfed him.

Moomin collapsed heavily beside him, landing atop his outstretched arm. His breath was loud and laboured, the air blowing on Snufkin's shoulder as he nuzzled it. Snufkin stayed still for a moment, before he started feeling dizzy. He struggled to free his arm from underneath Moomin's limp body, and turned onto his side, back to him. The press of his smeared thighs together was almost too much for how sensitive he felt, but he was too tired to move any further. He pulsed around the emptiness in him, and felt wetness seep out and roll down his skin. His lips were dry.

Moomin wormed up behind him, tucking him under his snout. His paw fell on his back and started stroking, up, down. Snufkin couldn't manage a purr yet. He curled up tight like it could squeeze the dizzying fulfillment out of himself. Moomin slid his arm underneath his head, wrapped his other one around his waist, and pulled him in, holding him close. Snufkin buried his face into the fluffy pillow offered to him as Moomin pet at the fur on his soft stomach and mumbled unintelligible nothings into his hair.

Snufkin bowed his head, exposing the back of his neck and Moomin took the cue, brushing his hair away and nuzzling there. Snufkin sighed, lax and warm with Moomin's chest comforting at his back. How lucky he felt.

Maybe in another life Snufkin was 40 and had long gone away before he'd gotten to feel his touch. Maybe in another life they'd never met at all. Snufkin used to think his heart would have been safer then. Nowadays he felt his heart might have gotten lost in all his travels, if he didn't have Moomintroll to hold onto it.

"I love you," Moomin whispered, as though reading his mind, and nuzzled. Snufkin lifted his paw, searching, and Moomin took it. Snufkin squeezed. "I love you. More than anything," the troll continued. "You're the love of my life."

Snufkin made a small sound, the words striking him where he felt most vulnerable, and where his own feelings for Moomintroll lived. They seemed much like echoes of each other. He didn't know how to respond. He had never been able to say those things as easily as Moomin could, not that Moomin ever asked him to. Still, Snufkin said what he could manage.

"I love you too."

Moomin lowered their hands back to his stomach and breathed him in. "Are you burning?" he asked, ever concerned.

"I'm fine."

"Well, tell me when you are, yes? I'll get the ointment."

Snufkin grunted absentmindedly. He wasn't feeling it yet, so truly it was the last thing on his mind. The concern lessened even further as another sensation took hold. Snufkin's stomach pinched, and he was reminded that he'd barely eaten before all of this, and he felt that a headache would soon be due if he didn't. An image came instantly to mind, brought forth by Moomin's familiar scent and warmth. He hesitated for only a moment before asking.

"Would you make me pancakes?"

Moomin shifted behind him, appearing surprised by the request, before he squeezed his body closer. "Of course!" He answered enthusiastically. "Blueberry?"

Snufkin nodded. But before Moomin could leave to do what he'd been asked, Snufkin quickly turned in his arms, pressing his forehead into his chest and clinging to him. Moomin tucked some hairs behind his ear, what he could reach, then looped his arm around him to stroke over his back in reassurance. Snufkin nuzzled into his fur, and sighed contently.

They stayed like that until eventually Snufkin felt he was suffocating, at which point he pushed himself free, turned his head away and blew air out of his nose to clear any fur. Moomin chuckled softly, and smoothed over his knee with fondness before sitting up. He bent down to kiss him once more before parting.

They got up and off the billiards table, and as soon as Snufkin stood upright on tired legs, he felt the leakage and clamped his thighs shut with a wince, holding it so it wouldn't drip onto the floor. He rebalanced with an arm against the table, an action Moomin, of course, noticed.

"Do you need help?"

"No," Snufkin answered promptly.

Moomin indulged his stubborn refusal with a roll of his eyes and went downstairs after that to get started on his breakfast—brunch? How much time had they been at it? Surely not that long, though Snufkin felt as though his day had been fulfilled and had now come to an end. He stared long at the shadow of the table, head blank, not doing the puzzle work he meant to, until he abruptly snapped back to awareness. Right. Still morning, yes.

He shuffled across the hall to the small bathroom, smeared thighs held close together. He wasn't in the habit of using bathrooms if he could avoid it—he still held much of an aversion to them, in fact, and preferred a bush or a cliff down to the sea, but he couldn't deny it was convenient when he felt he couldn't go too far. So he relieved himself, and cleaned himself up some, before following Moomin downstairs.

He retrieved his discarded gown from the drawing room and donned the comforting fabric back on, then went into the kitchen where Moomin was already hard at work. The troll smiled as he came in, and cracked an egg into the bowl. Something tripped him on his way, and Snufkin bent down, picking up the offending orange. Suppose that was his fault. He set it onto the counter then hoisted himself onto the tile beside it. The cool surface was a nice change against his heated skin.

He crossed his legs in front of the drawer where he knew the whisk to be, and watched Moomin take a small saucepan off the stove. It smelled of melted butter. The troll poured the contents into the bowl, then reached out absentmindedly for the drawer. He stopped upon noticing the obstacle, and tsk'd softly at Snufkin's antics.

"Must you? You shouldn't be up there at all, you know? You'll dirty my counter," Moomin scolded for the second time that morning, yet his eyes were soft with fondness as he leaned towards him, holding the bowl well out of Snufkin's way in case he tried to swipe.

Snufkin closed the distance, and pressed a kiss to his snout, then spoke, breathy, "Your doing. Again."

Moomin's ears flicked in interest, and he set the bowl down. His freed arms wrapped around Snufkin's waist, and he pushed his snout into his jaw and held him for a moment. Snufkin purred, greatly welcoming the affection. Moomin's paw lowered to his thigh, stroking up and down as it had earlier, at the start of all of this.

And then Moomin pushed his knees aside, pulling the drawer open to retrieve his whisk. Snufkin grunted in complaint when he realised he had been fooled and Moomin released him, stepping back to his work.

"I'm thinking of making a pie later as well," Moomin told him, deftly mixing the ingredients, bowl tilted slightly in his arm. "Haven't decided what kind yet, but you can help."

"How much later?" Snufkin asked and Moomin laughed. 

"Want to know when you can slip away again, do you?"

"Quite the opposite."

Moomin glanced up from his work, a little smile clearly hiding below his nose, and then returned his attention to the task at hand. Snufkin could tell he was very pleased, though he was restraining it for his sake.

"You might wish to take a bath, in that case," Moomin advised him.

Oh. A bath. Snufkin would grumble at the idea, though the troll was perhaps right. He was rather a mess, sticky and dishevelled. It would do him some good. And Moomin happened to have a nice tub, with warm running water—a luxury that Snufkin allowed himself only rarely, but could not deny enjoying. There were always nice soaps as well—ones that left him smelling like dessert. Very ill-fitting for a Mumrik. Once more that day Snufkin felt utterly spoiled; domesticated. Still, it couldn't hurt, could it?

"I might," he responded, an answer that didn't reveal much of his intentions, just as Snufkin liked it. After all, one could not be accused of doing as they were told if they had not strictly agreed.

Moomin knew this habit well by now, and knew it could go either way, though Snufkin had the strong suspicion that he would always bet with himself on the final outcome. It was obvious, in a sense, though it was hard to point at what gave it away. Many things were like that between them. They knew each other well enough to simply know. And perhaps that was the point to why Moomin did it—proving himself that he could, indeed, read Snufkin.

Moomin tried not to show it, however. He simply hummed, as if it didn't matter at all, and kept on, hardly breaking a sweat. Snufkin watched him work with admiration, but soon found himself distracted by a familiar discomfort. He pulled his knees in close to his chest, and tried his best to ignore the growing burn between his legs. He truly did not wish to face it yet. He'd been feeling so well. An old irritation arose up in him over the matter. Hadn't he delt with it enough years? Didn't he earn a break from all this troublesome business? Bodies required so much care. They could be so very frustrating.

Snufkin was pulled back from his thoughts as Moomin's tail suddenly flicked, and the troll stopped in his mixing as though he'd just remembered something. "Oh! You must be thirsty."

He set the bowl down and went over to the pitcher and glass sitting out on the counter. The glass was empty but recently used, water droplets down its side—likely the one he'd just drank out of himself. Moomin filled it, and brought it to him. Snufkin took it gratefully, and downed it greedily.

"Do you want whipped cream?" Moomin asked him as he retrieved a flat pan.

He always wanted whipped cream, of course, though he wasn't about to be impolite. "Aren't you tired? That's heavy work."

"Oh it's no trouble. I'll do it for you," Moomin told him easily, then lifted the arm holding the pan and flexed, showing off… very little indeed, as his fur covered any visible muscle, though Snufkin needed not see it to know it was there. "I can have it done in two minutes," the troll declared proudly, and Snufkin's smile grew. "Might be good for later anyhow."

"Well then. Shall I leave your strapping self to it? Or do you need an audience?" Snufkin mocked.

"I always want an audience, if it's you," Moomin answered genuinely.

Of course he'd turn it sweet, he always did, the lovely troll. Snufkin found he had well enough of him and his endearment right then. The itch was becoming hard to bear and his patience was wearing thin. He had a much more important bath to get to. Perhaps it would help. With that in mind, he set his empty glass down, swung his legs and hopped off the counter. 

Moomin stopped him before he went, extending a paw. "Let me take your gown. I'll wash it for you."

"No," Snufkin declined instantly.

Moomin sighed. "Snufkin, please. When was the last time you've washed it? Moreover you shouldn't have put it back on now, you're all sweaty. It'll feel much nicer after you both get a wash."

Snufkin was not convinced. "Your machine will chew it up."

"I'll do it by hand," Moomin promised with devotion, and Snufkin's heart stuttered. Oh.

He held his gaze for a moment, then carefully pulled the article over his head, exposing his bare skin once more. Moomin's eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he passed it to him.

Snufkin left him to the cooking and went upstairs. The sole bathroom with a tub was on the third floor, beyond Moomin's door. Snufkin hesitated for only a moment that time, before finally stepping into the room, the atmosphere falling over him. It was different, without Moomintroll. Snufkin was not used to being in there alone often. It seemed more private, so comfortingly Moomin that it turned back around to mild discomfort, leaving him feeling out of place. Despite knowing that he was always invited into this room, it perhaps frightened him a bit. It was another matter entirely when Moomin was around to welcome him into the space and assert that he belonged. Then Snufkin had no qualms about inviting himself in as he pleased. But when he wasn't…

Snufkin forced himself to stop focusing on it, lest he end up turning back around. He headed for the spacious bathroom. Moomintroll's tub was very classic, deep and decently spacious for a large troll, and set against the wall where the sun hit. There was stool against it for climbing in, something much essential to Moomintrolls, whose short legs could not climb over the edge.

It used to be that baths involved buckets brought up from the well and a boiling kettle to heat it. Moomintroll now had the benefit of piping and a boiler, which made Snufkin's task far easier. He plugged the drain, and turned the tap. It ran cold at first, and Snufkin kept his paw underneath until it warmed up. He was careful not to overfill the tub, not wanting a flood if Moomintroll was to join him. They'd had enough of those over the years.

Satisfied, Snufkin cut off the water and stepped in. It was hot, but that rarely posed an issue to him, as his body temperature adjusted quickly. He folded his legs and sank in. Instantly, his tired muscles loosened upon being submerged, and the burn between his legs eased with the temperature. The vapours rose into his nose and he breathed deeply, closing his eyes. A good decision indeed.

He reclined and tipped his head back into the water. The water rushed to stopper his ears, the sounds dulling into a comforting hum. His hair flowed freely around his head, the sun shining upon the water from the window, and for a moment Snufkin could almost imagine he was in the stream, with its swaying weeds. But of course, he was not, and the stark white of the tub was always jarring.

He rose back out for air, his waterlogged hair heavy and plastered to his neck and shoulders. He took a deep breath, and rubbed at his face, cooling in the air of the room. He already felt a bit more refreshed.

There were steps coming up the stairs and into the next room, and then a faint clatter of dishes being set down. Moomin appeared soon after with his desk chair. He smiled upon seeing Snufkin, and came up to place the chair against the side of the tub. The seat was short—too short for the tub itself.

"You look like you're having a nice time," Moomin commented. Snufkin hummed in agreement. "Let me make it better," the troll promised before he left the room once more.

He reappeared with a tray, holding a plate of pancakes piled over each other, syrup and dollops of whipped cream atop, fresh blueberries to adorn and a few orange wedges on the side. Moomin set it onto the chair, and Snufkin scooted to the edge of the tub eagerly.

"I hope they're good," Moomin contemplated.

"They look wonderful," Snufkin praised truthfully as he reached for the fork.

Moomin used the little stool to climb over the edge of the tub and join him. His foot dripped in the water and then retracted quickly. "Goodness, Snufkin! Can you not make it so hot?" he complained, not handling temperatures like the mumrik did. The troll still sunk his foot back in slowly, and eased in the rest of the way. As Snufkin had expected, the water rose considerably with his added mass, going up to his chest, but thankfully not spilling over.

Snufkin pushed the side of the fork through a pancake. It was fluffy, cutting easily. He swiped it through some whipped cream and brought it to his mouth. Warmth and sweetness melted on his tongue, and he felt blissfully grateful. The lovely troll came up behind him, his body settling against his back, fur even softer underwater.

"How are they?" Moomin asked.

"You are remarkable," Snufkin admired.

Moomin chuckled. "That good then?"

Snufkin cut another bite and looked back at Moomin as best he could. He passed the fork over his shoulder and Moomin's big round snout came into view as he moved forward to take it in his mouth. He made a noise of approval as he chewed, and Snufkin eagerly went back to retrieve some more for himself.

Moomin's paws settled against his bare sides under the water and started roaming over his body tenderly. His snout pressed to the nape of his neck, leaving nuzzles against his skin. Snufkin relaxed into the touch, armpits hooked into the edge of the tub, eating contently.

"You're being very cooperative right now," Moomin commented idly. "I'm surprised I didn't have to fight you to get in the tub."

"My mistake, I didn't realise we were still on for a game," Snufkin taunted. He placed the pancake onto his tongue, lips closing around the fork, then made to leave the tub, pushing up onto the rim.

"Oh no you don't," Moomin gasped and pulled him back down by the hips. Snufkin splashed into the water, fork hanging from his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"We're done with that now," Moomin told him.

Snufkin pulled the silverware from his lips, greatly amused. "Are we truly ever?"

Moomin sighed, knowing full well there was much truth to that. The troll moved away as Snufkin settled in once more, reaching for more food. When his paws returned, they were soapy and sweet smelling. Moomin spread the soap over his shoulders and Snufkin pushed up on his knees, lifting himself further out of the water so he could go lower. Obligingly, the troll ran his paws over his shoulder blades, down his wet back, over what he could reach, then up his sides and to his front. Snufkin closed his eyes as he chewed through a mouthful, blissful.

The paws reversed the trail, returning up to his shoulders and following the curve upwards. Snufkin swallowed before he could choke as Moomin's paw reached his throat and wrapped around. He stretched his neck out and Moomin's thumb pressed into his pulse, simply holding for a moment, then rounded the curve.

Moomin made sure he had covered all of it before running up his nape pushing the hair inverse, and Snufkin's scalp tingled delightfully. He sighed and tilted his head into Moomin's touch as the other started scratching his fingers in.

They left him abruptly, and Snufkin whined in complaint before Moomin was back, paws soapy once more. He started massaging his scalp, lathering it in, and running down the length of his hair. Snufkin was purring up a storm, he knew. Moomin kept at it, combing through the tangles until he was satisfied.

"Close your eyes," he instructed softly as his touch retreated.

Snufkin did so, lifting his chin higher. Moomin cupped water into his paws and poured it over his head. Snufkin waited patiently, rivulets trickling down his face as Moomin repeated the action until the soap was sufficiently rinsed out. Then Moomin's paw settled upon his exposed throat, tracing the crest of his Adam's apple. Snufkin swallowed and blinked his eyes open, watching him upside-down. Fully abandoning his breakfast, he set his fork down on the tray and leaned back.

Moomin dipped down to kiss him, lips pressing to lips briefly as his paws ran down his torso, smoothing down the wet hairs. Snufkin broke away, lifting his head back up to ease the strain on his neck, and relaxed fully against Moomin's chest. Moomin reached for the bar of soap on its dish where it was mounted against the wall, rubbed it between his paws, and set it back down. He lathered it down Snufkin's arms and over his chest, then followed the trail of fur lower. Snufkin's purrs grew in intensity as he knew where this was going, and couldn't help feeling excited all over.

Moomin scratched into the coarse fur, soaping up the curls. Snufkin moved his knees out from under himself, sitting back onto his bottom comfortably, and lifted his legs up on the edge of the tub. Moomin rubbed his paw over his fur to clear all the soap, then slid further down between his open legs, as Snufkin had been hoping for. He hummed as the paw molded to him. Moomin pressed a few kisses into his shoulder, then smoothed his fingers between the folds, washing him off and untangling the stuck hairs. Snufkin melted against him, feeling that low thrum of contained excitement build up.

Once done, Moomin's paws lifted out of the water for soap once more, and settled over his knees. They dipped down briefly to wash the inside of his thighs, then back to run down his shins. Snufkin pulled his leg in closer so Moomin could reach, and Moomin cupped his heel adoringly, and rubbed the dirt off his sole, then between each of his long toes. He dropped that foot into the water then repeated with the next.

As soon as he was finished, Snufkin turned around in his arms. He craned his neck up, pushing his weight against his chest, and kissed his snout. Moomin sighed in response, nuzzling back, and his paws settled on his waist. Snufkin broke off and reached past him for the dish to return the favour.

He kneaded Moomin's chest and scruff, rubbing soap into the fur until it could be wrung out when he curled his fingers in. Moomin pecked him as he went, until Snufkin forced him to stop, cupping his snout into both palms. He stroked his thumbs over his cheeks, pushed up with Moomin's smile and happily crinkled eyes, shiny with adoration, then pet over the top of that round snout he loved so much.

"I love you," Moomin whispered to him for the hundredth time that day, and Snufkin stopped, staring at him for a beat, overtaken by emotion, before pressing against his chest, hiding below Moomin's snout where he could no longer look at him.

Moomin gathered the bubbles off his own fur and ran them down Snufkin's back, which arched under the touch, the skin there crinkling up with pleasure as he reached his raised tail. Moomin raked his fingers through the tuft carefully, combing the worst of it out into the water and stroking it clean as Snufkin shivered against him, enjoying the caress greatly. Once Moomin deemed his task complete, he ran his paws over his rump affectionately. 

Snufkin flopped against one of the arms around him. It caught him around the waist, holding him with care. Moomin was able to look down at him again, and Snufkin stared back up adoringly, curling into his side, the water up to his neck. Moomin tucked his wet hair behind his ear and bent down to nuzzle his nose. Snufkin's chest glowed warmer than the bath. He felt relaxed, soothed, lazy, much like tea earlier, but better. He scratched idly into Moomin's chest and purred.

"Didn't I say this would be good?" Moomin spoke softly.

"Yes, yes," Snufkin responded dismissively, closing his eyes. "Clever troll."

They stayed like that for a time, holding onto each other. Moomin rocked him steadily, stroking his skin under the water as Snufkin kneaded his fur in return and melted against him.

They couldn't stay like that forever, however, as much as they might have liked. Eventually they pulled away and finished washing up. Moomin exited the tub before him and dried himself as Snufkin pulled the plug. He helped him step out, and wrapped him in a soft, fluffy towel of his own, patting it against his skin and cocooning him as he held him in his arms and rested his snout atop the wet crown of his head.

Dry and out of the soothing water, the itch returned with his cooling skin, and Snufkin finally broke the moment to tell him, "I'm burning a bit."

"I thought so," Moomin replied. "I was a bit much, wasn't I?"

Snufkin shook his head adamantly. "No, no, you were lovely."

"I'd missed you," Moomin explained, smoothing his paws down his back. "But you should have let me get the lubricant."

"I didn't need it."

Moomin frowned at him. "Clearly you did," he argued, and released him. He walked over to the cabinet, opening it and retrieving a small jar, then turned back to him. "Would you like me to do it?"

"If you'd like," Snufkin answered, wanting full well for Moomin to do it. He was a little worked up, and far too lazy to do it himself. It wasn't nearly as much fun, anyhow.

Moomin took the tray with Snufkin's half-finished breakfast off the chair, and set it down on the floor. He took the towel off his shoulders and draped it over the seat of the chair before beckoning Snufkin over. Moomin sat, and Snufkin followed suit, settling onto his lap. He hooked his knees onto the other's thighs, and leaned back into him. Moomin opened his own legs, spreading Snufkin's further apart as well, and the arm holding the jar looped below his chest.

A paw dipped between his legs as Snufkin tried to get comfortable. Moomin rubbed the side of his thumb over him to help him along, nuzzling his wet hair and ear and murmuring soothing nothings. Snufkin was thankfully flustered enough that it made the whole task easier. Moomin dipped two fingers into the jar and brought them to his opening, spreading the ointment over him. Snufkin did his very best to relax, exhaling all the tension out of his body.

"Tell me when you're ready," Moomin asked him, thumb returning to rub circles against him until Snufkin stiffened beneath.

It only took him a minute more before he could answer, "Ready."

Carefully, Moomin pushed a finger in. It slid inside without much trouble, and a barely audible sound escaped past Snufkin's throat. The finger curled, spreading the slightly chilled ointment over his walls. Snufkin took a shaky hold of Moomin's wrist and directed it a little better.

"Higher up."

"Here?" Moomin asked, and massaged right into that unbearable spot. Snufkin sighed with relief as the burn was soothed.

Moomin pulled out, gathering more ointment, and returned with both fingers. "Is this okay?" He asked.

Snufkin nodded, and Moomin breached him once more, returning to that same spot to coat it more thoroughly. He did a sweep all around after that, doing his very best to cover all he could reach, and dipping back into the jar as needed. Snufkin instructed him on which areas required more attention, and Moomin dutifully tended to them.

"Better?" Moomin asked him as he worked gently.

"Much," Snufkin replied gratefully, feeling great fondness for the darling troll. "That's plenty, I believe."

Moomin gently pulled out. "Do you want me to help you finish?" He then proposed, speaking softly in his ear. Snufkin's skin warmed from his breath.

He considered it for a moment. He didn't always have the time nor patience for it when he did it himself, preferring to get it over with so he could return to other things. But with Moomin it was different, he could never stay so unaffected by Moomin's fingers. Pleasure always rose up, and Moomin always offered to relieve it. Snufkin rarely found reason to refuse such care.

"If you would."

"Of course," Moomin responded, and laid his fingers back down against him.

Moomin rubbed in steady circles over and around where he was strung, keeping his touch light but diligent. He was patient as he worked him up. Snufkin held his breath and focused on the feeling, allowing his body to slowly tense up, his head trembling slightly with it.

"Just like that," Moomin encouraged, his voice doting and reverent, coiling Snufkin's insides.

It didn't take much more than that. Snufkin froze up, the air catching in his throat, and then released with a long exhale, calm and simple. He pulsed against Moomin's fingers, which continued to pet at him to ease him back down.

Moomin nuzzled his temple affectionately. "There you go."

He lifted a corner of the towel and patted at him, then closed their legs, allowing Snufkin to stand first, then him. Moomin put the jar back and washed his paws as Snufkin bent down to pick up the forgotten tray. He was finishing that.

He barely had the time to straighten out when Moomin came up behind him, crouched, and looped an arm under his knees. Snufkin found himself lifted into his arms before he'd even realised what had happened. The plate clacked on its tray and Snufkin fumbled to balance it so he wouldn't lose his breakfast. Moomin paid it little mind, squeezing him close and nuzzling into his face, and Snufkin couldn't help but laugh.

"You'll kill me at this rate with all your smothering."

"I call it treating you well," Moomin corrected. "And you deserve it."

"Not very mumrik," Snufkin pointed out. "You've made me a different creature altogether. Next you know all of my fur will have turned white and my nose will have grown."

"Well if that's how it is to be I'd like you all the same." Moomin shot back with conviction, jostling him in his arms. "But I do like our differences."

Snufkin huffed a small laugh, and rested his head against the troll. He very much agreed with that sentiment, he thought, admiring how soft Moomin was; how he could lift him so.

"Now," Moomin declared as he started carrying him to the door. "We're going to find you some clothes, and then I have the most curious story to tell you. You won't believe what Little My has done."

"Oh?" Snufkin perked up at the promise of gossip. If it was his sister's doing, then Snufkin was inclined to think he could believe anything, and he was always curious to hear of it, even when he disagreed.

Suppose he wasn't slipping away, this time.


End file.
